


That kind of Detective Agency

by Halcyonranhuer



Category: Identity - Fandom, 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Gore, Comedy, Comfort/Angst, Detectives, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Possessive Jack, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements, inaccurate history, more mysteries later, more ships later, naib-centric-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 56,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halcyonranhuer/pseuds/Halcyonranhuer
Summary: Naib Subedar, a retired mercenary, heads to London for his ticket back home. He has to help out solving mysteries at a run-down detective agency, only to find out his colleagues consist of a somewhat blind man with an owl, a way too happy-go-lucky child and a fool for gold.Oh, and count that escape convict.First Mystery: The Whitechapel MurdersSecond Mystery: The Picture of Joseph DesaulnierThird Mystery: The Witwatersrand Gold Rush
Relationships: Aesop Carl | Embalmer/Joseph Desaulnier | Photographer, Eli Clark | Seer & Naib Subedar | Mercenary, Emily Dyer | Doctor/Emma Woods | Gardener, Jack | The Ripper/Naib Subedar | Mercenary, Naib Subedar | Mercenary & Emma Woods | Gardener, Norton Campbell | Prospector & Naib Subedar | Mercenary
Comments: 97
Kudos: 456





	1. The Whitechapel Murders

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [I]**

Naib Subedar leaned back on his seat. Glancing at his pocket watch, he grimaced. He might have entered the compartment a little too soon for his liking. Someone might just slip in at the very last moment, grappling for a seat. He hoped it had not been noticed as the compartment’s door was almost located at an unthinkable angle. A place that only the train conductor would know.

Pulling his dull green hoodie to conceal his unique features, he tried making an effort to blend into his surroundings. If the following commuters did not see him, it would be most unlikely that they would notice that small compartment.

There was nothing wrong in his wish to travel alone. Most Englishmen preferred to do so. However, Naib Subedar was no Englishman. His skin was fair with a yellowish hue and his eyes, despite a stormy grey, were too small to be a considered of English descent and his nose, a tad too small and flat.

The English did not take well to have a different man walking next to them or seated at the same table. Naib had always hated their discriminative contemptuous stares and their hushed derogatory remarks.

And he would very much prefer not to endure that for three entire days.

The train’s destination led to London, a place much gossiped about in the little town he was in. The city was said to be a thriving commercial district at the heights of economic prosperity.

“A place where dreams come true,” some young un had claimed to his mates. “My Pa say we can be rich landowners if we go there one day!”

Naib had scoffed at that statement, his expression nigh unreadable. 

The train was finally moving and jolted him from his thoughts. The platform slid past and Naib relaxed, slumping against his seat which smelt as abhorrent as it looked. He tried to find a comfortable position he would settle in as he drifted back into his own thoughts.

The Manor Owner said in the letter that he would find his work there.

_“I understand your circumstances, Mister Subedar. But you must understand! They are tight with port security now. It is not as simple to sneak someone aboard a ship these days. However, I may assure you that if you would be so kind to lend an aid to my agency, which is located in the heart of London, I will provide you a free ticket back to your homeland.”_

He took the Owner’s word. Naib might not have met that man. Yet, that man had paid his hospital bills and eradicated his previous records, so that the army would not track him any further. He would now live as a free man in Great Britain. That man had deftly addressed himself as the Manor Owner and left Naib a letter when he was ill and feverish, after deliriously ranting his problems.

With the last of his funds, Naib had bought the ticket to London. He was not sure if the ticket would lead him to an eternal regret, or his redeeming grace back home. But Naib Subedar was a gambler; he always gambled his life on the fields.

He would once again gamble and as much as he wished to deny, he felt the thrill of it all. There was a glint behind his eyes as he sat crumpling the letter.

At half-past five, the train conductor lightly rapped on the compartment door and Naib produced the white cupboard slip hastily. He quickly turned away from the man, as he took his ticket, punched it and handed it back. Naib did not even bother to give a word of thanks; his accent easily gave him away.

It was only after when the door shut with a click, did he then turn back his head to properly admire the passing scenery, a blur of stick thin trees with undulating hills. It was perhaps nothing much to the common English man. But to him, it breathed a sense of life. Better than blood-slicked trenches and piling corpses anyway.

His journey was smooth, despite it being a bumpy ride due to the lack of maintenance on the railway tracks. Naib was not about to complain. He still had his meals served on time and no one bothered him when he was carving wooden figures.

It was an early morning when he reached London and the glass windows were frosted over with dew. A shrill shriek from the steam engines had awoken him up earlier and he waited for the grinding of brakes to an abrupt stop.

Nearly Autumn, Naib had noted. He needed to buy a new coat soon. His current outfit would not last him past the harsh winters this time. He stared a trifle nervously from the window, but he must disembark. He would not want to cause a commotion that might draw unwanted attention.

He alighted at the designated platform and nearly gagged, for all sorts of smells came crashing into nostrils as people swarmed like fruit flies in a hurry to leave the train. London smelt disgusting. It was some sort of a sick concoction of ammonia, cheap perfume and body odor. Waves of people crowd the platform and Naib was in the process of being sandwiched between a lady’s bosom and a man’s armpit.

He was forced to go with the flow among the throngs of people, even nearly having a luggage wheeling over his feet. Years of mercenary work taught him a rough but quick getaway. A few short yelps would not make a difference in the already bustling platform. So, he struggled his way free, ignoring an angry woman’s shrieks and dashed outside the train station. The throbbing in his elbow ached terribly, but Naib needed to be away. 

Rubbing his elbow and feeling quite sore, he started trying to recall what the letter also stated. He was promised that someone would pick him up the moment he had agreed to help, though he had not the foggiest idea who it might be. Details were not a thing for the Mansion Owner.

There were so many carriages outside. He had never seen that many of them in that tiny town of his. Perhaps only the same old one or two, belonging to the Lords that had inhibited near the town. Carriages were a thing for the upper-class people.

“Naib Subedar?” A voice called out to him.

“Yes.” He quickly replied absent-mindedly while fervently blinking his eyes. He had not gotten as much sleep as he had hoped on the locomotive.

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” He turned and saw a young chap waving lazily at him. The other had messy dark brown locks with a slick coal sheen, tucked away in a brown deerstalker. His clothes were ruffled and unkempt. He had not bothered to tie his red muffler properly and it hung loosely on his stained vest.

More prominently, he had a huge patch of scar tissue that covered the left quarter of his face. It looked pink and fleshy, but somehow it did not mar the young fellow’s good looks.

Yes, even Naib had to admit, that guy was a quite a looker, with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. He was quite tall, being at least a head and a half taller than him.

“Hey.” He said in annoyance, impatiently waving a gloved hand in front of him. “Do you have a habit of staring at people or something? I hope we haven’t taken in an additional weirdo.”

“Excuse me?” Naib folded his arms, visibly offended. The young chap did not seem to register his annoyance.

“Listen well! The name’s Norton Campbell and I am giving you good advice since you’re probably new to London.” Norton did not extend out a handshake. Instead, he quickly gripped Naib by his throbbing elbow. Naib did not wince out of pride and Norton, without notice, pulled him away roughly. He had no choice but to comply. He hadn’t felt so helpless ever since the first time he was introduced into the battlefield.

“Never turn your eye at the rich! They’ll think we are criminals. If they ever lose a silk handkerchief, they turn to people like us and the judge on no thought gives fifty strokes and a five-year sentence just to end their shift on time for dinner.”

Norton kept rambling on an unfair system and that the citadel wasn’t really a good place. “Common folks think they get a life here. Next thing, you know, they’ll be on board a ship to a dead land. They call it a ‘Penal Colony’. Too many criminals here, they said.”

He swore a little too loudly and several gentle ladies shrank away, faces paled.

Naib barely flinched. Now a fish out of water, he had struggled to come to terms with society after being released from the hospital. The peace had made his senses dull and it was almost unnerving to have no bullets flying over his head.

He finally rasped as he was being guided to a dark alleyway that smelt of feces and mold. On the grimy walls, plastered a several similar wanted posters, all reflecting the infamous ‘Luca Balsa’. Luca was a man who had killed his benefactor with strange machinery and fled with the money. He was supposed to be trialed for murder, but the day before his execution, he managed a successful jailbreak. The Press went bonkers over his story for two weeks.

Naib then turned to snap at Norton. “So, what is the deal?”

“Aye, my bad, I forgot you had luggage in the station. That’s why you looked totally peeved now.” Norton rubbed his face apologetically. Now that Naib had an even closer look at Norton, he noticed more of the scar. It probably stretched to his ear and just ending nicely on where his cheekbone was. He also had strange tiny metal balls locked onto his face.

Naib had wanted to ask those were, but he was compelled to respond to the situation at hand to demand more answers. Norton seemed to be deliberately avoiding the issue. “No. My possessions are just this bag.”

He gritted his teeth in irritation. “Seriously. What is the deal?”

“Just this bag? You’ve got to be joking. Even Emma had like thirty boxes.” Norton gasped in disbelief, not deigning to reply to Naib. “Are you like where Eli’s from or something? He practices this weird belief from his village called minimalism and they carry almost nothing on them.”

“No, I am an ex-mercenary. Answer my question now before I sock you in the face.” Naib growled, his patience threading thin. Norton jumped a little, hands defensively in position. Naib then heard a rustle behind them. 

He took a good look at the alley once more but found nothing out of place. He stepped slightly away when a humongous rat emerged from the trash that was unsightly piled near the river. Not that he was afraid of rats, but they gave nasty bites. Naib had never been educated in school, but he had heard historical stories about the Black Death. That was enough to shun away from those pests. 

“The Detective Agency.” Someone who did not sound anything like Norton answered him. His tone was a pitch higher and much gentler; melodious like those altar boys who sang for the church choir. He sighed in melancholy. “Poor River Thames. Don’t you agree, lil’ Rose Brooks?”

A little chirp was heard.

He turned to a silhouette dressed in leather trench coat. Naib thought what looked like an owl was perched upon his shoulder, a single eye gleaming dangerously in the dark.

“To more important matters.” Naib could not see, but he was sure the stranger was smiling. “We have been expecting you, Mister Subedar.”


	2. The Whitechapel Murders [II]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am too eager with this story.

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [II]**

“Tea or coffee?”

That stranger had introduced himself as Eli Clark. He was not as big as Norton and a man of average built, but he too had defining traits that had made him almost unforgettable. In contrast to Norton, he was very well-dressed, much like the usual working English man of the city. He donned a neat tie under his trench coat and his pants had no creases. His auburn hair was neatly cut, combed and styled, not a single strand out of place. He was well-shaven and had no stubble. Even the Oxford shoes he wore were shiny and well-polished.

But Eli was blind.

At least, Naib thought so, as thick bandages wound fast around where Eli’s eyes were meant to be. There also seemed to be strange dark tattoos that ran down his cheeks and a barn owl perched still on his shoulders. He called her Rose Brooks.

“Coffee, dark.” Naib responded with a hard countenance. He was not sure what to make of the situation at hand, Eli was much friendlier than expected. He had expected him to be a rigid man of strict traditions.

“No milk?”

“No milk, no sugar.” He affirmed as he tried to settle on the armchair. He crossed his legs and made an imposing figure, a trait when he had been mercenary.

Naib gave up asking anything earlier, pulling back his threats on Norton and headed to where Eli had gestured him to come. There laid a little black wooden door, small and unnoticeable. There was no signs or bell. Its hinges were oiled as it barely made a noise when it was opened.

The room was dark and smelt of wet wood. Only a small fireplace illuminated the room, where a young girl knelt, shoving more dried wood into the dying flames.

“Mister Clark!” She cried out. “The fuse is blown out again!”

“It usually rains around September.” Eli had chuckled sheepishly.

The girl seemed flustered and she stomp her feet, pouting. “That’s not the point. The rats have been chewing out the wires.”

“We are currently in the midst of an infestation. It is an old building after all.” Eli turned to Naib, sounding a little too optimistic. He casually pats him on the shoulder. “It will all blow over soon.”

“It’s been like this for nine months.” Norton snorted. “Just get used to it.”

Naib deigned to think what sort of a place he would be residing in from now on. Still, it was his only way home.

Now, Eli was thrilled as he reached for a grey sack in the shelves. Despite his inability to see, he navigated through things like a normal man. Naib would have expected him to stumble on the dried logs the girl had strewn all over the room, but he easily hopped over them. “You’re just in time for the latest batch of Arabica Beans. It wasn’t easy buying them, but I am very fond of the way this coffee tastes!”

“Make sure you don’t serve rat shit to the newbie. The infestation hasn’t exactly ‘blown over’.” Norton snorted as he made his way to the table which were filled with books, papers, pencils and other incomprehensible items like a scalpel, a toolbox or a flare gun. With a big motion of his hand, Norton swept some onto the ground without thought.

“Norton!” Eli responded a little angrily as he placed a coffee cup in front of the man. “Mind your language! Emma is here as well.”

Emma Woods was the final occupant of the building Naib was introduced to. She was not bigger than fourteen, had freckles and cheery and sweet. As Eli came with his drink, Norton released an inhuman shriek which frightened the owl and sent her spiraling to the ceiling.

“Blasted-”

“Norton, language!” Eli chided, and it only sent Norton bawling even louder.

“No! No! No! I don’t know why they sent me to get him when I was so, this close-” Norton gestured using a pinch with his forefinger and thumb. “-to extracting information on where that gold mine was! It was a lead, after being bare for nearly three months! Now, it’s all gone! The old man’s gone on a ship to Greenland!”

He wailed loudly and slammed his fist onto the table. The mug toppled over as coffee sloshed onto the rugs and Emma just skipped over the mess to grab the cookies from the shelves. 

“Sorry, Mister Subedar.” Eli chose to ignore the chaos. Naib just thought it was only because Eli cannot see. “We were told by the Manor Owner that there would be additional help. If you weren’t clear, we run a detective agency in the heart of London, here, and we lend our assistance to…”

Eli rubbed his chin as he contemplated. “… special clients.”

“Can I assume you all haven’t been doing that well?” Naib folded his arms and huffed.

“You’re…quite the perceptive one.” Eli laughed nervously.

“It’s not that bad, Mister Subedar! We managed five cases last year! Mister Clark’s really great to do all it by himself.” Squeaked Emma as she ate a cookie. “But now, we are in quite a pinch. We are running out of food and no security for the upcoming winter.”

“The heating systems are broken.” Eli clarified. He then reached into his trench coat and pulled out a sealed letter. “We always have job offers, but I only specialize in certain cases.” Eli shrugged listlessly.

“Right, because you can’t see.” Naib pointed to him, then gestured to Emma and looked over to Norton, who was shredding papers apart. “She’s a child, and I don’t think he is helpful in anyway.”

“He has great contact network.” Eli seemed a little forlorn in his tone, Rose Brooks came back to perch on his shoulder. “Norton’s here because he’s searching for something. He is not exactly invested in the detective work.” 

“So you need help for this one, I presume?” Naib raised a brow as he opened the envelope swiftly to reveal the contents of the letter.

“Yes. I could not turn it down for many reasons. The client was rather… insistent.” Eli said.

The letter was in English and braille, folded and written neatly as if it was from someone who seemed extremely considerate. 

_“Dear Detectives, it is most regrettable that I may have to trouble you once more. Another death has occurred in the Whitechapel District. It makes the fifth one in three months. The coroners may have listed these deaths as suicide. Yet I inquire, is there a suicide so violent as to have her entire throat torn? There are strange gadgets with rare metals surrounding the last body when she was found. Blue electricity trickles and a misty hallway. – Lady Nightingale.”_

“Blue electricity?” Naib echoed.

“Blue electricity. They say it is the color of lightning.” Eli said.

“Do you know what the color ‘blue’ is?” Naib asked curiously.

“Once upon a time.” Eli managed a small smile, but sensing it was somewhat lopsided, he looked away for a moment. Naib tilted his head, feeling somewhat apologetic.

“There’s only one person associated with rare metals and blue electricity.” Norton suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence. He seemed all too interested of a sudden, strolling towards a wall, full of pinned notes, scrawled letters and some graffiti. He tore them all away to pull out the familiar poster.

“Luca Balsa.” Norton jabbed it. “Balsa!”

“We cannot jump to conclusions, Norton.” Eli said hurriedly. “We have to meet Mister Carl to affirm what the cause of death is.”

“Aesop Carl.” Eli then turned back to Naib, pressing his calloused hand affectionately. “He is a fine man who works as an Embalmer. He’s also in charge of a part of London’s Morgues.”

“I don’t see how ‘fine’ and ‘embalmer’ goes together.” Naib muttered, and he saw Norton nodding his head helplessly. 

“Mister Subedar!” Emma called out, suddenly waltzing right between him and Eli. She seemed not to have the basic mannerisms of an English lady and more of a farm girl- nothing suited for life in the city- but Naib did not mind. It was a touch refreshing if he might add. 

“Call me Naib. You too, Eli.” Said Naib and he smiled.

Eli flushed a deep red beneath his bandages.

“Naib!” Emma said excitably. “Your outfit is here!”

“Hurry and wear it.” Norton said, going back to fumbling items on the table. Naib thought he saw Norton trying to grab some razors. “Guy doesn’t take well to us interrupting his moments with dead people and the only chance to grab him is when the clinic closes.”

“Isn’t it great? A new coat to last the winter.” Eli then chuckled and Naib slightly frowned.

“Aren’t you blind?” Naib asked without thought, holding the thick package in his arms.

Eli grinned, and Naib thought it was somewhat suspicious. “Yes, and no.” 

* * *

Aesop Carl, or the Embalmer of Old Kent Road he had been known to Londoners, entered the morgue exactly at eight in the evening. It was the time when most Londoners, at least the respectable ones, would scurry home and the streets would awaken to vile activities.

To Aesop, it was the perfect time to work. He never liked the mornings, far too noisy with Emily’s patients trampling above.

He was a lean man of pale complexion and a tall built, the rest of his features mostly unknown as he had hidden them with a mask. His hair was a mix of grey and platinum blond; he was not too sure what his natural hair color anymore, from the sawdust that fell from the wooden ceilings. 

He bore silver eyes that reflected the moonlight, although Aesop had not seen the moon as much as the sun. It was what Andrew had suggested. He pulled over his surgical gloves and unveiled the cloth covering his latest haul. It was wet, stained with yellow and splotches of brown.

A twisted wrinkle formed between his eyes and he ran his fingers through his hair. “Would it hurt to treat a body with care?” He muttered as he pulled his sewing kit over. The organs were black and spilling onto the metal table where the body was laid. Some fat slid and fell onto the tiles with a nauseating squelch, but Aesop paid no heed.

It was then he heard terrible noises above, like the thumping of heels and Emily’s weak protest that the store was no longer open.

“Aesop Carl!” A far too familiar and annoying voice hollered.

The door to his sanctuary was roughly swung open, and Aesop could have sworn he heard a crack from the doorknob. He thought his left eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Hell! It stinks like death in here.” 

“It’s where they put the bodies, Norton. And it is the solutions you are smelling.” Aesop responded as he hiked up the stairs. “State your business. If you require a coffin, Andrew is at the back. If you require some medicine, come back at half past eight tomorrow morning.”

He turned to the trembling lady. “Emily, you may leave. I will take it from here.”

“Right, sir. God bless you tonight.” The lady in blue nodded nervously, grabbed her purse and hurried away.

He now turned to his uninvited guests.

“Ceremonious as ever eh, Aesop?” Norton said when Emily had left the vicinity. “We aren’t looking for death boxes or medicine.”

“It is about Lady Nightingale’s request!” Eli suddenly piped up. His owl made a hoot too, and Aesop wished as much Eli had needed the bird, he hadn’t brought the bird inside. It would tarnish his sanctuary.

“Leave the bird outside.” Aesop said. He could already feel his head throbbing. He then noticed a new face among the usual two he saw. Today was sure a crowd. “Who is this?”

“Naib Subedar.” The third replied. He was a small man, Aesop thought, but he had dressed well with a checkered trench coat, leather gloves and golden brooch. On his nose, perched a fancy monocle. He stood a little weirdly as if he wasn’t used to the shoes or outfit, but Aesop was not one to comment on minor details. “I am new here.”

“Greetings, Naib.” Aesop nodded his head, his right hand on his left breast, and gave a deep bow, as his mentor had once done to address the new customers.

"I am Aesop Carl, the Embalmer of Old Kent Road."


	3. The Whitechapel Murders [III]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support with this story! I am on a roll, so hey, another chapter! I also changed the title. It's cooler that way. Also, late warning, but violent descriptions would take place. Please take note of the tags.

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [III]**

“Is it no trouble to see Miss Dyer to her house?” Eli asked when Aesop headed back down.

Naib observed the morgue, or properly termed, Aesop’s morgue. It was rather dark and cramped with many shelves and a small lightbulb lazily attached to the ceiling, secured by a mess of yarn strings. A dull yellow illuminated the entire area. It surprisingly did not smell as much as how Norton had exaggerated earlier. The air was just a little sour and stale, but he was sure it was from the huge jars of embalming solutions present. 

“Is it no trouble for you to leave a young child fending away vermin which caused the Black Death? Your apartment is a thriving community of rats. I wonder why Wu Chang never comes to meet you lot.” Aesop snapped, as his good night was ruined, and his mood became foul.

It was rare to have lesser people flocking on the streets at night, and they were not granting him the opportunity to do his work in peace. He turned to Eli who looked ashamed, for his cheeks were red below the bandages.

“Fret not. There isn’t a need to worry about Emily. She is a person much in contrary to her appearance. Nothing meek and sheep. Fearsome, in fact. It would be insulting to treat her as weak lady.” Aesop sighed, feeling a little sorry. No one except Eli had heard him, who just nodded. “Very much similar to Emma.”

Meanwhile, Naib was recalling the earlier events that left him trying to grasp heads and tails. 

An hour earlier, Emma directed him to the rooms located on the upper floors. It was surprisingly clean and had simple embellishments. A bed with pristine sheets laid over, a small wooden desk and a chair. An oil lamp was placed on the table and a wardrobe in the corner. On the ground, a small carpet was laid. There was a heater, which was probably defunct as he could feel the chilly winds that scrape his face.

“Eli took a few days to make the room sparkly and clean!” Emma said. Now that she sensed Naib being a little friendlier, she gave up using any addresses, much to the chagrin of Eli. Apparently, he had tried to teach her the proper mannerisms of behaving like a London lady, but it was frankly obvious that it was to no avail.

“Eli seems to do a lot of things.” Naib commented when he observed the furniture. There was not a speck of dust and despite them talking about an infestation, he had not seen a single rat.

“Oh yes, he does!” Said Emma. “He gets the food. He cleans the laundry, our rooms and the toilets! He cooks delicious mushroom soup on good days!”

Naib was stunned.

“Have you all not considered getting a maid? Why is a man doing the works a woman should do?” Naib asked. It was only natural for a woman to touch the house.

“Eli says it is alright for me to be bad at house chores, but in return, I should make sure that rats all stay on the third floor!” Emma laughed as she pulled a broom from the corner. “Besides, it will be trouble-some if the maid finds out all the detective things we are doing! Eli says we are serving special clients after all.”

Naib was silent for a moment, before speaking. “I won’t have any rats falling on me tonight?”

“Nay, Eli always know which rooms are not affected by the rats. You won’t have to worry about a single squeaky on you!” Emma waved her hand and she closed the door behind her before skipping away.

Although the water was freezing, the common toilet was indeed clean. Naib had expected the water in the bucket to be a questionable shade of brown, such as was life in the small town, but it was clear and smelt clean. A rarity in London, where horses’ stools and urine would seep into drainage, and poor people would drink from the same water source.

He also had expected black mold and dirty tiles, but not a single grime was in sight. There was even a soap bar which smelt of herbal spices, like lemongrass. He did not think he would smell lemongrass in London anymore. 

“Well, they could not afford food, but they can afford clean water and soap.” Naib had chuckled. 

When he was dressed, finally able to figure out where all the buttons and belts went, Norton had immediately slammed his door opened without even knocking. Eli looked incredibly sorry, from the wrinkle between his brows, as they whisked him out onto the streets to catch the last train to Old Kent Road’s station.

Naib was not used to the new clothes, for they felt stiff and tight. He felt his toes cramped in those Oxford shoes and he struggled to not fall headfirst into the endless cesspools by the streets. Thick, fat flies swarmed about them, even though it is nearly Autumn and that the nights are wet and cold.

Eli had even offered him a cane earlier, to which Naib found incredulous.

“Is it not you who needs a cane? No, a walking stick.” Naib gawked.

“I am good.” Repeated Eli after being questioned three times. Norton had also said that Eli would never walk into the cesspools and it was Naib who was the most likely out of the three. Eli had tried assuring him by saying he looked very handsome.

It did not alleviate his happiness. Not because Eli was blind, but that Naib never wanted to be part of the English.

“You must have received the body.” Eli said hurriedly, breaking Naib out from his thoughts. Aesop was staring curiously at Eli.

“Body?” He echoed.

“Lady Nightingale was troubled by the recent murders occurring at Whitechapel street.” Eli said, as he fiddled his thumbs, clearly troubled.

“Of course, it’s where Wu Chang goes to have his deals. New drugs called Opium or something, they say. She invests in their trades.” Norton added unhelpfully. He looked around for a brisk moment and headed towards the operating table where Aesop had left the body in place. He placed his handkerchief to his nose and gestured towards it. “Should be this one. Looks as horrible as the way she had lived. Were you about to embalm it?”

“I am an Embalmer. What else would I do?” Responded Aesop sarcastically. Norton rolled his eyes.

“Five death cases in total.” Said Norton defensively. “They called them suicide.”

“It is a trend to be lynched by barb wires.” Aesop responded morosely.

Norton gasped. “Seriously?”

“I’m kidding.”

Aesop went to the body’s ankle and scrunched his features when he read the tag. “Of course, it is Lady Nightingale. I should have wondered twice when I received the body in such a condition.” Said Aesop gravely.

“How did she die?” Norton snapped rudely; he was tapping his foot impatiently. “Tell me it is electricity. Strange metals. Luca. Balsa.”

“Does he have a thing for him?” Naib asked Eli. “He raises him up every five minutes ever since he knew the contents of the letter and is strangely excited.”

Eli scratched his cheek before explaining. “Luca Balsa had stolen something precious from Norton. Well, at least Norton thinks it is Luca, since the only trace of evidence was crackling blue electricity. Blue electricity are the remnants of lightning and Luca Balsa had been known to work with high voltages, or lightning, during his time as an inventor.”

“Luca had been a free man then. Shortly afterwards, he was arrested.” Eli continued. He coughed lightly as his head turned to the direction of the duo. Aesop and Norton had started bickering.

“What sort thing was stolen from him?” Persisted Naib.

“A strange invention, or so I’ve heard during his drunken stupors. Magnets.” Said Eli slowly.

“Magnets?” Echoed Naib, flabbergasted. “What’s so special about magnets?”

“That is Norton's secret to keep. To more important matters.” Responded Eli, avoiding the topic as he turned away from Naib. He seemed to stare into space before continuing. “We should stop the argument. The night will never be too long.”

* * *

“Simple.” Said Aesop. They finally started after ten minutes. “She was gutted apart like a pig. That was what killed her instantly. The silt on her throat came after, as if it was purposefully left there. Just like the last four cases. The wound is too clean and neat, no signs of struggle. A trademark, I dare say, and if I may helpfully add.”

“The handiwork of knives?” Eli suggested.

“No. Based on the lacerations, the cuts are in sync and of similar width. Seemed as if they were made from the likes of talons- claws.” Aesop raised his hand to demonstrate, fingers bending slight. He brought a hand down towards Eli and struck him lightly. “One swipe and she’s dead.”

“You made sound as if a monster attacked her.” Norton scoffed. Naib detected an absence of enthusiasm in his voice, as if he had lost all vigor.

“It may be. The last four victims have ended up the same way.” Insisted Aesop. He briefly glanced at Eli. He then continued. “In Whitechapel, the prostitutes have called him the 'Ripper'.”

Norton nodded listlessly. “Touché.”

“What about this?” Naib, who had been looking at the body all this while, traced his finger on air above a peculiar scar. Seemingly painless cutaneous branching patterns which resemble fern-leaves blossomed all from her neck to the breast.

Aesop looked quite pleased, judging from the expression from his eyes. “Yes, you are quite observant. Arborescent erythema, caused by lightning strikes-”

“Lightning!” Norton jumped excitedly.

“Do not interrupt me.” Aesop snapped. “As I was saying, it was present before she died. The marks are faded and there is no burnt smell.”

Norton gagged. “You smell corpses?”

“I am terribly sorry.” Eli quickly said when he figured that Aesop was looking rather distastefully at Norton.

“I have to resume to work. My tolerance for your presences is up my limit.” Aesop then spoke hastily. He was already onto climbing back up the stairs and ushering them out. “Please leave.”

“You don’t need to see us out. I’ll bolt out of here any minute.” Norton slammed the doors of the shop open and trudged underneath a lamp post. He took out a notebook and started scribbling on it. Naib tipped his hat and Eli bowed respectfully as his owl fluttered back upon his shoulders.

“Thank you for taking care of Rose Brooks, Andrew.” Eli said with gratitude. A figure in the shadows then rustled. As Eli prepared to leave, Aesop quickly grabbed him by the arm.

“Be careful.” Aesop struggled to find good words to part with the other. He always struggled with words; partially why he never liked dealing with the living. “There’s a reason why the Manor Owner asked for him, and that not to start this case without him. I don’t know about Naib Subedar, but the Owner always had better intentions than our own instincts.”

Aesop briefly looked at Naib who seemed to be scrutinizing him. 

“Thank you.” Eli placed his hand above Aesop’s. He smiled, and Aesop quickly slipped back his hand as if it was burnt. “Good night, Aesop.”

* * *

When it was quiet once more, Andrew emerged from behind the curtains, shovel in hand. His features were obscured by the shadows and his voice was a deep baritone. “Quite a lively night indeed, Mister Carl. Norton brings in so much life and Rose Brooks is still as lovely as ever. Thank you for the short interaction with Mister Clark’s owl. I know you know how I appreciate the little company.”

“Ruckus, noise and pollution. You got them all mixed up.” Said Aesop as he turned to him. “Terrible guests indeed.”

“You are concerned about them. You did not keep them too long into the night either and you fear this ‘Ripper’ might be more than they can handle.” Andrew sighed when he saw Aesop twitching a little. “Pardon me, I might have said a little too much for a lowly undertaker.”

Aesop’s eyes narrowed and he sprouted a frown beneath his mask. “All is fine, Andrew. Let’s get back to work, I’m afraid we do not have all night.”


	4. The Whitechapel Murders [IV]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to find a way to hand the torch to Naibean. He's the featured boy after all. Thank you for your support once more!

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [IV]**

They set their faces towards the bridge, which was near where the detective agency was located. After a drive of approximately thirty minutes, they alighted beside the bank of River Thames. They began to walk home. Norton was still scribbling in his notebook, Eli was humming a soft tune and Naib, he contemplated on what he had witnessed. He had seen his fair share of bodies, yet this one seemed to haunt him.

“It’s always like that on the first job. You think you’ll be used to it, but sometimes the brutality seen here is worse than that of war. In war, mindless killing. Here in London, you get perverts and psychopaths.” Norton spoke up. Naib thought he must had seen his face.

“Get some sleep tonight. We will need you.” Added Norton, and he folded his arms with a huff. “Not only we have to go through ‘just solving’ the murders. There’s the thing to deal with the commissioner, coroners and press. Yes, can you believe it? One of the press members manage to offer his card to the decease's father. I'm telling you this whole thing's gunna blow up.”

“That’s a lot.” Naib said, feeling the roof of his mouth becoming dry. He was feeling a little dizzy and he remembered that he had not really slept at all. There was something about the wounds that struck deep in his core.

They had reached a corner which leads to a narrow lane and Eli halted in his steps. “Good night, Naib.” He said. “I will see you in the morning.”

“Walk straight down and it’s home sweet home.” Norton said.

“Are you lot not sleeping?” Naib asked.

“It’ll be nice if murder occurs in the bright daylight!” Norton responded sarcastically, throwing his hands up. “We can get proper working hours! Get sleep at night!”

“You are oddly enthusiastic.” Naib frowned heavily. “Only in for Luca Balsa, I presume.”

Eli chuckled as Norton gave him a wry smile.

“You’re shaping out to be quite a something, Naib. No wonder Aesop liked you; could tell from his eyes.” Norton replied pacing about. “Anyway, both me and Eli have to go snooping for more before the press ruins everything.”

“To the pubs at Whitechapel Street, you mean.” Naib turned to walk into the shadows. He felt a little spirit returning to him as he spied the familiar door ahead. “The daughter of that old man you were pursuing earlier works at one there, no? Hurry along then.”

Norton stood there, stunned and flabbergasted. He then turned to Eli, nearly shouting. “He knows! He’s too perceptive! I don’t like him!”

“You were never too difficult to read, Norton.” Eli laughed.

“You actually knew too, Eli?” Norton asked, sounding quite hurt.

“Perhaps you might wish to pack up the letters on your table once in a while.” Eli replied heartily.

* * *

Whitechapel was not an inspiring backdrop for anyone to lead their lives. One thing the Press never lied in their papers was that the entire Whitechapel district was steeped in poverty, in all manners of crimes and ran rampant with disease.

No sane driver would enjoy providing services towards the heart of Whitechapel now, after the emergence of ‘Ripper’. Hence, he had to take time to walk into the district. He sent Rose Brooks surveying the area. He was a little slow without his owl, but nothing he cannot manage.

Eli stood upon one of Whitechapel’s gas lamp-lit streets, which lead into winding dark, foggy alleys. He had to walk through many unpleasant areas, where skinny, malnourished children laid trying to sleep. Despite the whispers and rumours of murders, the pubs and inns still rang with raucous laughter and drunken fights. Some ladies had tried cajoling him to participate in their services, but Eli had skillfully rejected them.

Miller’s Court was the place where the last murder had occurred, and he decided to head there. He was entirely fearful as he knew he would come across someone familiar. He noted the chalk outlines and the number plates, evident that the area was already taken over by the coroners. Though from the way that the lines were hastily drawn out and plates were placed, he figured the more important few had yet to investigate this scene.

“Awfully late this time, Eli.” A voice piped up. “I am surprised you only stepped in after the fifth death has occurred. When things have to do with mysterious deaths, you often jump in before Lady Nightingale sends a letter.”

“Hullo Miss Bourbon.” Greeted Eli. “I had specific instructions not to interfere until the arrival of our newest member.”

Eli could feel the copious amount of viscous liquid on his shoes, for his soles stuck fast to the ground and the smell of decomposition was distinct. A fresh kill from two days prior. “Did they really term this as a suicide?” He asked.

“Not this time, dear Eli. Her guts had dutifully painted the walls of this alleyway and she was the daughter of a well-to-do merchant.” Miss Bourbon replied. “Now the Coroners are scrambling to cover up their incompetency. Some will definitely be fired. The last four deaths would be brought forth and no longer be listed as suicide cases.”

Miss Bourbon was an attractive lady, many would say. Her chest and buttocks were taut and ample, her lips saccharine sweet and red like rose blossoms, such as which caught the eye of many lustful men. She was of a good height and seemed so full of vigour that Eli found it almost impossible to believe that she was once bed-ridden with disease. The only evidence of that was her lush streaks of white hair, which she always concealed under a hat. 

Her hazel eyes seemed to twinkle under the lamp when she looked at Eli as she continued. “This might even allow some to score politically.”

“I guess this is why Lady Nightingale stepped in, wouldn’t want the trades to be affected.” Eli chuckled nervously.

“Indeed.” Miss Bourbon said. “I would hate my chain of businesses getting affected too. Just to say, I never liked that man who was just recently elected to be in the council. He kept talking about how Whitechapel needs to be refurnished and taxes to be collected properly. Perhaps, one might do something, yes Eli?”

“Of course. Indeed. It will be seen to.” Eli said, but he thought he did not sound too confident.

Miss Bourbon gave a coy smile and she said. “I heard your newest addition is an ex-mercenary. How funny! An ex-mercenary to become a detective!”

“But he has a sharp eye and quick reflexes.” Eli remarked. “You humour me. Once upon a time, I was just a mere Fortune Teller.”

Miss Bourbon laughed heartily in reply and headed down the misty alleyway. As her figure retreated, so did her footsteps, the sound of her heels which faded against the stony pavements left Eli feeling terribly alone once more.

“Did you see anything, Rose Brooks?” He sensed the owl fluttering towards him, and he was careful to not let her feathers rustle on anything. The owl hoot apologetically and Eli petted her.

“It is fine. We can try again tomorrow with Naib.” He said. As he continued walking and trying to make sense of the contorted figures that seemed to emerge from every corner, he barely noticed a dark silhouette following him.

He paused. From the shadows, he sensed a cold hand.

Swerving around, he gripped it hard and only heard a yelp in reply. “Ouch! Eli, did you have to be so rough?”

“Norton?” He gasped, releasing a breath he did not know he had been holding. He quickly released the hand.

“Of course, you dunce, it is me.” Norton winced as he rubbed his hand.

“Who did you expect? Jack the ‘Ripper’?” He made a funny face as he spoke, pulling out a candle. “I seriously hate how London alleyways are so cramp.”

“Jack the ‘Ripper’?” Eli echoed weakly.

“That’s what all the ladies say.” Norton scratched his cheek. “One of them described how he was like before she died apparently.”

“There was no mention of that from the Coroner’s records that I’ve obtain from Miss Bourbon!” Eli whispered hastily. “You mean a victim lived long enough to see how this ‘Ripper’ looked like?”

“Indeed.” Norton said gravely. “She was assaulted on the first night and found dead on the second with her throat silt. No one did report that, however. I had to dig it out from a woman who was hiding away in the cellar! She’s traumatized and mentally ill, I dare presume! Must be that new drug.”

Eli gripped him by the shoulders. “Get down to business, Norton. Either way, it is a potential lead. How did she described him to be?”

Norton said. “He’s lanky and tall; dressed like a gentleman, wears a white mask, and sports brown hair. He wields a gigantic talon in his right hand, like some sort of Frankenstein in that recent hit novel. To think that darn Aesop was actually not intoxicated on his embalmer salts-”

Rose Brooks made an alarming screech and Norton jumped in fright. "What's with your silly bird, Eli?" He cried. 

Norton then saw that Eli’s face was pale, all blood was drained from his face and his lips were quivering. He was trembling, perspiration dabbed on his forehead and his arms that seemed to stuck fast on his shoulders were shaking. “Norton.” He said, sounding almost incoherent as his voice was strained. “Run.”

Norton not deigning to turn around, cussed loudly. He really hated dark and cramp places.

* * *

Naib woke up with a start, feeling extremely uneasy. It was already the afternoon, he thought sourly. The sun rays shone bright in his eye and he wondered if should ask Eli for curtains. He opened the door and thought that it was strangely quiet. Emma should have been up and about.

He was refreshed, nevertheless. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” A familiar voice rasped. “Had a good night? It’s a little sudden but I guess you may have to start work now.”

Norton was by the hallway, leaning near a door, clothes ripped and bloodied. His left arm was kept in a sling and the left side of his face was swollen and bruised. His eyes were red-rimmed and vacant. He tried a smile, but immediately reeled back in pain because of the cut inside of his mouth. 

“I thought you said you were just gathering information.” Naib gasped. His eyes were wide.

“Let’s just say we had an unfortunate run-in with ‘Ripper’ when he was about his business.” Norton said, his voice oddly hollow. It was then he rubbed his temple with his good hand. As he spoke, Naib felt that Norton was gritting his teeth. “And he decided to make good work of the only witness. God help us. That thing is an actual monster.”

On Norton’s side laid a crumpled newspaper, and Naib quickly grabbed it.

“ **SIXTH DEATH IN WHITECHAPEL** ” screamed the headlines, in capital and bold. “ **IS THE WORK OF MAN OR MONSTER?** ”

“I just talked to her just last night, you know?” Norton said gravely. He then stood up in tranquil fury, his fists balled up. “If that damn Balsa hadn’t stole my magnets, we could have gotten away quickly, and Eli wouldn’t be hurt.” 

“Eli is hurt?” Echoed Naib.

“Badly hurt, but nothing life threatening. Well, at least, according to Emily.” It was another familiar voice and Naib raised his head up to see Aesop.

Aesop looked particularly disturbed as if he hated standing in this hallway at this very moment. Despite the expression on his face, the Embalmer still looked the best dressed among all of them. He was not in the simple black uniform he donned last night, and his hair was properly slicked back. Aesop too, had handsome features, Naib noted as the other was no longer wearing his mask.

Much to his embarrassment, Naib realised he was still clad in his sleepwear then.

“She is a capable doctor.” Reassured Aesop. He seemed to pay no mind to how Naib was dressed.

Aesop then turned to Norton. He said while gesturing at Naib. “I was right, Norton. It proved too much for you both to handle, which is why the Manor Owner sent for him and to wait for him. Why you both choose to investigate the crime scene without him was extremely preposterous! There wouldn’t be a need for him if things would go fine and dandy.”

“I wouldn’t imagine the monster to come straight up and attack us on the very first night! Weren’t his targets supposed to be women?” Norton snapped angrily.

“Don’t be a fool!” Said Aesop. “It was more frightening unimaginable that you both came waltzing into my shop on the same night all bloody and battered!”

“Alright.” Naib finally spoke up. The duo turned to look at him, confusion settling in. “Could you guys first fill me in on the details?”


	5. The Whitechapel Murders [V]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a little while to churn the mystery as I changed my initial idea. Thank you all for your support on this! Also, a shout out to Sad11Cat for their hard work in translating it to Russian. If you are Russian and prefer to read in your mother tongue, here is the link! https://ficbook.net/readfic/9252304/23697658#part_content 
> 
> It might get a little content heavy. Naibean is a better detective than I.

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [V]**

The air was heavy and tensed as the three men sat around the lounge. Norton had painstakingly pieced together all the detail and mapped them out on paper. Naib was appalled at his memory; the man was able to recite times, streets, and coordinates as if he was a living map.

“Despite his appearance, he is a brilliant man.” Aesop had begrudgingly admitted. 

“I spoke to the only witness relating to ‘Jack the Ripper’. She was intoxicated by drugs and alcohol. I was waiting her to sober up to gain more information today.” Norton sighed loudly, having recovered a little after a hot cup of coffee. “Of course, as you all know. She’s dead as a door-nail.”

“Why did they call him ‘Jack the Ripper’?” Naib asked.

“There was an urban legend on the streets a few years back.” Aesop rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. He recited. “A creature in the appearance of a man would stalk the ladies in dark alleys in the midst of a foggy night. No one has the faintest idea on how he looks like. But they do know that it is a creature; indeed, for on the shadows on the walls show where in place of hands, he would bear long sharp claws. He would maul his victims apart and have them for supper. If he set his eyes upon you, you’re doomed. And the only clue to that is low, deep hum. You can always run, but you can never hide. Jack is a common name as Jill and John, so they called him 'Jack'.”

“I don’t like that story.” Norton said. "I don't like reasoning behind the name even more."

“It’s a story so as to caution the children, and ladies not to go out too late.” Aesop frowned.

Naib pondered in silence for a moment, and he placed the old briar pipe in his mouth and took a puff. Smoking was common in London, especially among men. He might not like the English, but there was something about tobacco that calmed his nerves, ever since he took his first cigar at the battlefields. Furthermore, he had been extremely tensed since just now. It felt as if someone was watching them. He needed to calm himself down. 

“You were attacked on your left.” Naib eventually said.

“My back was facing him. It was only evident that I was hit.” Norton said, clearly not amused.

“You said the witness claimed that the ‘Ripper’ had a talon on the right.” Naib said. Norton nodded slowly.

“What are you trying to point out?” Aesop asked curiously.

“The ‘Ripper’ that attacked you had his talon on the left.” Said Naib. “I’ve been in the fields, so I’d know better.”

“Look.” Continued Naib, seeing the two’s confused expressions. “If a man were to punch you from the back, on the left, in a narrow alley where two grown men could barely walk together, where would he most likely hit?”

“The left.” Aesop said confidently. He understood where Naib was going.

“So, there are two ‘Rippers’ now?” Shrieked Norton. “Holy-”

“Furthermore.” Naib added. “You said Eli was hurt but, the wound was not life threatening.”

“Indeed.” Affirmed Aesop. “As Emily and I saw it, it was a clean cut-”

“And not the brutal tearing of flesh.” Naib concluded. “Amazingly restrained, considering the length of the claw which you have witnessed.”

“Monstrous.” Confirmed Norton.

“But this woman.” Naib gripped the file. It was the latest Coroner’s report that was just delivered a few minutes earlier. “As described here, that she died in the same terrible fashion as the last five deaths. Only this time, quoted ‘is much messier and tasteless’.”

“Not to mention, the intervals between the murders are getting shorter. It seems he thirsts for this, like an addiction. He’s desperate for something.” Naib said. He looked up warily at the other two. “This messiness and the lack of coordination shows desperation. If the woman was intoxicated, he would not have wasted a great deal of energy in butchering her and would have taken his time with her. This looks more like he wanted her to have a quick death.”

He was greeted to silence and found Norton and Aesop looking at him in fascination.

“Wonderful.” Aesop said, clapping his hands. “I think you’ve found your guy.”

“Hullo, welcome to London. O’ great detective.” Norton said in vexation. “So how do you propose we catch him, or identify him for the matter?”

And they saw the glint in his eye. A glint that discerned the normal man from what made him a soldier.

“A bait.” Said Naib finally. He sounded like he was hunting for prey.

* * *

“Of course!” Emma said far too cheerily. She was on the third floor apparently, dealing with the rats before Aesop and Emily came over. Aesop firmly stated he refused to see a single rodent scurrying anyway for the matter, or he would leave immediately. 

Naib looked horrified and turned to Norton. “I asked for a viable candidate, preferably a lady who can run quickly, and you only thought to bring her to me?”

“She’s the only eligible woman in the house besides the doctor and Eli needs Emily.” Norton said defensively. “Besides, no sane woman in London would roam the streets at night these days. The police are out on heavy patrol duty. Orders from the head Commissioner, they said.”

“That makes things worse, doesn’t it?” Aesop sighed. “They are just allowing the killer to give a slip and switch locations, not catching him in the act.”

“Perhaps ten men had gone to plead for him to switch tactics, but he wouldn’t budge.” Naib said.

“How did you know?” Norton asked. “Well the news say he was very insistent on the idea…”

“His name was revealed in the papers and I- well, we had a bit of a history together. He was a senior officer, though he was not very effective on his job.” Naib replied. “Anyway, Emma-”

“I have a spanner!” She chirped.

“No, put down that spanner. Where on earth did you get it anyway?” Naib cried. “This is a dangerous mission, Emma, not a game.”

“You don’t know Emma; she can totally flip a man over twice her size.” Norton remarked. “I thought my brain nearly fell out of my skull when she hauled me over her shoulders to the ground.”

“Aye, I have been sheep-herding cows since I was a wee girl!” Emma affirmed. “Plus, I have daddy’s protection bubble! And my handy toolbox!”

Daddy’s protection bubble, Naib pondered for a moment and tried to grasp what she meant. “Perhaps a protection charm?” He supposed.

“If you’re that worried, you can dress up as a woman.” Norton suggested cheekily. “I mean, it’s so dark. No one could tell what kind of whore they are bedding eighty percent of the time-”

“Norton.” Aesop called out. He looked extremely displeased. He then turned towards Naib. “Although Norton did not put it nicely, you may trust his words for this. You both will be tailing Emma either way and if it comes to a point where she will be attacked, Eli will definitely not let her be put in harm’s way.”

He heard an owl’s toot, and then realised that Rose Brooks was in the room all this while. She looked fine as day, and not a feather out of place. But he thought about the owl’s glassy eye when it was always clear, which also seemed to be glowing a little. Then, his gaze trailed to the strange mark that laid on her forehead. There was something so familiar about her gaze, he thought. He was right about being watched, but he could not quite put his finger on that yet.

“Alright.” Naib said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Time is not a luxury. I mean this case has been delayed long enough, at least for the poor ladies in London.”

* * *

Emily had loaned Emma her best dresses. It was a pretty baby-blue lace dress and on top of that, also provided a lovely straw hat and a matching purse. Her initial brown checkered detective uniform was folded neatly at the side, once again, courtesy of Emily.

Indeed, Naib just found out that the outfits they were usually donned in were uniforms, despite them looking anything but uniformed.

“It’ll get dirty.” Naib cautioned her. “She will be running.”

“That is not a problem.” Emily chuckled. “She is such a pretty doll.”

Naib deigned to reply. Emily had struck him as a particularly strange and mysterious lady. She seemed to be frightened by the tiniest of shadows, but at the same time, had an inner courage he could not quite fathom. However, he was quite clear that she loved Emma dearly; the lady spoke to and treated Emma like her own daughter.

One day, Naib thought, he might ask Aesop more about Emma.

“Put this in your bag.” He overheard Norton speaking to Emma and he saw him handing her a metal piece. “It won’t help you in deflecting an attack, but it will pull you to me once you’re close enough.”

“Are these the magnets you speak of?” Naib asked curiously. Norton jumped.

“How in the world did you know- Oh Eli, I’ll figure that prattle-mouth.” Norton said, looking quite upset. “Yes, this is just another extra that I have. Its magnetic field is much weaker. Not to worry, I have dynamites.”

Emma clapped her hands.

Naib was horrified. “Why do we need dynamites?” He hissed.

“Protection. You saw how that thing was a monster. How are we to contain it?” Norton replied.

“There is a plan.” Aesop responded. He had been on call making some form of arrangements. “Alright Naib, Andrew will see to it by then.”

They would then wait for another three nights before executing the plan. Naib had suggested during the evening of the first day after long hours of reading the files. “If the criminal could have strike in Spitalfields, he would have done so earlier. But he hadn’t and you’ve all seen the areas where he struck. It’s in the vicinity of Whitechapel and always done during the early mornings between three and four.”

“What are you trying to point at?” Norton asked, slightly refreshed from sleeping. His face was still swollen, however. 

“In murder, there is usually a Modus operandi. This time, the targets were random women, their ages, skin and features vary a lot.” Naib continued. “After going through their backgrounds, there was one thing in common.”

“What?” Norton folded his arms, growing impatient.

“They are, in a way, had contact with the man you’re after.” Naib pointed at him. “Luca Balsa.”

Norton nearly fell off his chair. 

* * *

“First victim. Apparently, she was Balsa’s landlord. She rented an apartment to him in Whitechapel when he first arrived in London. According to her, he was always a man of strict appearances. She had found it strange to have such a man rent a place in a poverty-stricken district.”

“The second, according to Norton’s notes, was the lady that had occasional called him over for small talks when she wasn’t out selling her body.” Naib said, lifting a slip of paper. “Though he never slip any information to her.”

“Hence I thought she wasn’t that significant.” Norton grumbled.

“The third was a lady that lived near Balsa. The fourth was the lady who used to sell cheese until her business failed, so she started another service of selling herself.” Naib added. “In jail, Balsa was noted to have especially love cheese. It may be assumed that Balsa was her regular customer.”

“The fifth…was Balsa’s previous ‘friend’, which had sold him out.” Naib said. “Her name was in the court files when she testified against him. They found rare metals surrounding her, but they were not stained with blood. It could not possibly have killed her in such a manner too, which is why they ruled Luca Balsa out as the murderer.”

“Furthermore, Luca Balsa had not been seen since his escape from jail since a month earlier. They deduced he would most likely be on the ship to another country.” Aesop added. “And the murders have been occurring for about three months now.”

“What about the last one?” Norton said.

“For now, I’d assume it was because she was best of friends with the fourth lady. She helps her out occasionally with selling cheese too.” Naib added, with a deep breath after speaking for so long. “And that the possibility she had seen him. She was hiding in the cellar, which was why the murderer had not killed her yet.”

“And I coaxed her downstairs.” Norton laughed bitterly. “Excuse me.”

“It was not your fault, Norton.” Aesop said. “She was probably going die from drug addiction anyway. You might have even allowed her to see the moonlight one last time.”

Norton remained silent.

“I am saying he won’t rest until he gets all the people in contact with Luca Balsa. One reason or another.” Naib continued. “Despite his low profile, we know that Luca Balsa stayed in Whitechapel all the time before his arrest. The murderer is going to stay and so he is going to memorise the patrolling routes. That ex-senior commander of mine always drafts the simplest patrolling routes. Give the murderer three nights, he would memorise them all.”

“You seem to know a lot.” Aesop commented. “How would you know the murderer would memorise them so quickly.”

Naib felt the roof of his mouth a little dry. He said. “It’s nothing much. Let’s just say it’s a little intuition from being soldier.”

“A lead’s a lead.” Said Norton, shrugging his shoulders, but his expression was anything but relaxed.


	6. The Whitechapel Murders [VI]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on break from Good Friday to Easter Sunday. I hope everyone is well during this period. Please take care. Also, thank you for the lovely comments! I will take time to reply them after the first mystery!   
> Recently, I ran for twenty rolls and I have only been getting skins and emotes for the characters I do not main :'D

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [VI]**

There was one point in time that Naib had been truly merry. His homeland had thick forests that carpeted the uplands, a lush blanket of green and when he was a child; a child, as in the form of innocence, he played in the glades. At one point also, his mother had re-named him Naib Subedar, in the honour of his father serving the British Indian Army. She said they will start life anew in England.

At last, all was but a lie. The English granted the Gurkha no home and casted them away like slaves. Poor, poor mother, Naib had once thought, and he dreamt no great dream again. Everything was painted in a deep crimson red and he only thought when his next good meal would come. 

Naib slowly opened the door to Eli’s room, a soft creak between the hinges. A figure laid in bed, almost unmoving, and Naib released a breath he had not known he was holding. He wanted to ensure that Eli was alright before he retreated to sleep that night. He enquired a few times with Emily about his condition, and Emily said that Eli would mostly be asleep as she gave him sedatives to ease the pain.

“It may not be serious, but it did strike the nerves.” Said Emily.

“Hullo Naib.” Eli suddenly spoke up, causing Naib to nearly stumble over in fright. The man had been so still, Naib had not realised he was awake. “Thank you for taking the trouble to visit me at this late hour. I must apologise for being a burden to both you and Norton. To assure you, I should be able to walk in a few days.”

Eli had been struck on his lower back when he attempted to shield Norton after the man was hit on his left. Three lacerations on hip, running nearly to the front where his lower ribs were. They had tumbled over to the road leading to Aesop’s shop, sprouting cuts and bruises along the way as they grapple to their feet. Eli still clambered to run and even dragged his wounded friend to safety. That cause his initial injury to tear further and made him lose a bit of blood.

“I’ll lend you my cane.” Naib said cheekily. “Well, now that all is well on your side. I’ll be taking my leave. I won’t interrupt your rest anymore.”

“You can sit for a bit.” Eli said, and Naib hesitated to reach for a chair in the room. Eventually he did, and he tried to find a sense of belonging in the strange comfort that Eli seemed to emit. “I was promptly updated earlier. I wonder if it is mere coincidence that the victims happened to be ladies.”

Naib wondered if Norton or Aesop had taken the initiative to talk to Eli, not that he remembered them taking a short hike to the second floor. But Naib refused to ponder too much.

“I guess it was a coincidence that the ones happen to know Luca Balsa are women.” Said Naib. He instinctively pulled out his old briar pipe once more. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead.” Said Eli. He quickly flashed out a leather case to offer to his company. “You may try the cigars too.”

“If you’d excuse me then.” Naib said, then selected a cigar for himself and proceeded to light it. As they smoked, Naib thought how good the cigar smelt. Nothing crass and flaky. There was really a difference between the ones Gurkha like him had, and the common English people.

He turned to look at Eli once more. The room was illuminated with a dull yellow. Eli was propped up against the bed stand and his back supported by a few soft pillows. There was a bit of red was seeping through his shirt and he wondered if Eli was in pain.

“I think you should rest soon.” He said. He quickly snubbed out his cigar and promptly took the one from Eli. “An injured man should not smoke.”

Eli did not seem mad. He craned his head towards the man, smiling as he spoke. “Is everything really a coincidence? Many more others probably knew of Balsa too. Many came to him with intentions.”

“Who else?” Demanded Naib. What did Eli mean?

“Probably, I said.” Said Eli, as calmly as ever. “Things are never that simple, no matter how much we wished them to be.”

Naib stared the man, questioning and intimidating, until a loud stomp from the floorboards above jolted him out from his action.

“Must have been the pipes busting again. Or the mice scurrying about.” Said Eli almost too quickly, but there was not a twitch within his facial muscles.

“Right.” Naib turned his gaze away. “I should leave.”

“Did you know ‘Ripper’?” Eli then asked. Naib felt his hands freezing above the doorknob and his breath hitched a little. “The one that had attacked me and Norton.”

“What made you think so?” Naib responded coolly.

“Just a wild guess. He had something around him which sounded like the clanking of a military tag.” Said Eli.

“No, I don’t.” Naib replied. “How am I to distinguish ‘Ripper’ from the thousands of dying men in the battlefield?”

“It’s just a bad question from a tired man.” Eli then responded. His features were shadowed by the moonlight, but Naib could still make out the bandages which laid on his face. “Sleep well. I believe you can solve this case.”

“Sleep well too.” Said Naib. He exited the room and felt nauseous. He was never good at keeping secrets.

The moon was very high tonight.

* * *

He was not ugly, not by any means in any way. He had a tall, slender figure, which moved in an elegant manner; a long, regular face, with a pale rosiness; very high noble brows, a straight nose, a beautifully chiseled mouth, a sharp chin. His features often had something vague and characterless, the dream-like expressions artists always wore. He held paper and pen, a rarity among soldiers, and he drew with his left hand.

He was not fit for war, Naib had thought, must have been an aristocrat’s son.

“An artist.” He deftly corrected Naib. “Your expression says it all.”

He had a sultry voice that sounded like the low strung notes of the violin, like the cooling winds of Autumn. It had been a warm summer and the bodies stunk terribly, but Naib felt like all did not matter to him now. “Just a student of James Whistler, I came to experience what my master experienced.”

Naib knew not anything about James Whistler, but he just nodded as if he knew it all. There is something earthy and woody about his scent, like he was back in his home forest. They chatted for hours about heavens know what; Naib could no longer remember, but his fleeting touches, deep gazes and lingering scent of cypress trees kept the memory fresh.

He was not ugly, by any means in any way. It had been a long time since then, and his countenance was no longer clear to him. He never knew the man’s name, but he had etched something deep within him.

“You’ve got an expression. Are you having wet dreams?” Naib nearly snapped his eyes open at the offending statement, winced at the bright light and collapsed to the floor. His pants were, fortunately, quite dry.

He forgotten he had chosen to sleep on the couch since the rooms were too cold. He briefly wondered if Eli was alright. 

“Which girl was it?” Norton smirked. “One with big breasts, or plump backsides. Or the legs!” He made an indecent gesture. “I don’t know if you know this lady called Michiko. Her name has been circling about in the black markets of London. She’s an Orient apparently, from the far East. But if looks can kill, she’s totally killing the floor. I’ve seen her once and-”

“Norton, save your dirty talks to yourself.” Aesop said. He was somehow in the room, and Naib was stunned, for he heard not the clicking of locks or the opening of the doors. “How fancy of you to comment when your tastes are just not attuned to women.”

“I appreciate all forms of beauty.” Norton retorted.

“Yes, and I’ll appreciate if you would learn close your front doors properly. Do you have a habit of leaving things open, Norton? From cookie jars to boxes.” Aesop replied. “No wonder this place had a rat infestation. Although I must compliment Emma. She is doing a decent job, and there is not a single rodent in sight so far.”

“I don’t like leaving things closed up and all trapped.” Norton snapped. 

“Also, I have not heard a single rat trap going off though.” He then continued, scratching his stubble. “Anyway, it begins tonight?”

“Yes.” Naib said, rubbing his eyes a little. That age long memory of a dream had caught him off-guard.

“So, how are we to make that Ripper believe that Emma is somehow related to Luca Balsa?” Norton asked.

“Simple. We identified the seventh possible victim, courtesy of Martha. A lady banker. She used to live in Commercial Street, but the long depression had caused her to lose her job and she moved to Whitechapel. She used to oversee Balsa’s finances.” Said Aesop, tapping the papers which he had meticulously clipped together.

“You’re awfully invested in this.” Said Norton. “Thought you would be heading back to stroking your cadavers’ muscles.”

“Eli requested for me to help. I will be paid his portion.” Aesop said dryly. “Your humour could freeze hell over. Please refrain from making additional comments.”

“Who is Martha?” Naib asked.

“The good Commissioner Behamfil’s daughter.” Said Norton. “Though she’s nothing like her father wished to be.”

Naib did not query more. Instead, he lifted through the files as he read every word carefully.

_“Is everything really a coincidence? Many more others probably knew of Balsa too. Many came to him with intentions.”_

“With intentions.” Echoed Naib. He looked over his shoulder and saw the wall filled with notes. 

“Norton, you said you compiled a list of names in Whitechapel, am I right?” Naib said at last.

Norton replied impatiently. “Yes, I did. But it was basically useless information-” 

“What had that old man’s daughter got to do with Balsa?” Naib asked. 

Norton flinched. “What do you mean?” He choked.

“If that old man’s gone on a ship, you wouldn’t have exactly fished out the information where the gold mine was anymore. He has a daughter, not a son and she wouldn’t know where on heavens is the gold mine will be located anyway.” Naib pointed to the wall. “More importantly, you pinned her name next to Balsa’s.”

“He said that his daughter had overheard people talking about Balsa. Mere coincidence. Apparently, rumours were that Balsa had a hidden invention that had do with blue electricity. The black market wanted it. She wanted to see if she could find any possible clues; wanted to interact with him, but never got to.” Norton said simply and shrugged his shoulders. “She’s just as simple as any woman in Whitechapel. Get money, get a better life.”

“That will be our possible seventh victim!” Hissed Naib.

“She did not even meet Balsa!” Norton cried.

“She had intentions. All of them who were killed had intentions!” Naib said in exasperation. “That's the key. They knew about his invention and this Ripper was going after the ladies who knew about Balsa’s secret invention!”

He then felt a light tap on his shoulder, and saw that Aesop calling for him, file in hand. “Calm down a little.” He said.

“All this will be mere speculation without evidence. Let us go through the list of victims once more.” Aesop then continued, tossing the file onto the table. “We will have to investigate more about victims one to six first. At least, so our entirety of this cause is not based on assumptions. We have about eight hours till sundown. We will be able to gain some witnesses”

* * *

They hailed a cab to Whitechapel, foregoing to travel using the train, along with Emma and Rose Brooks. Naib had not considered bringing the owl. In fact, none of them did. The barn owl had appeared in the carriage when he had walked down the stone steps to open the doors.

“Oh, Rose Brooks!” Emma had greeted her excitedly, as if she was expecting the owl to be in there. The owl hooted and landed on Emma’s hat. 

“You know.” Norton had confessed to him outside the carriage when Aesop was loading his suitcase. “I often think that owl is actually a different creature. It doesn’t hunt mice, and it lives perfectly fine in the city as it was in the wild. It appears almost at everywhere and the way it watches you with that one eye, you think it be someone else entirely. Not an owl-like gaze for sure.”

“Not to mention.” Norton added. “Many a times, I think Eli would take a fatal hit. He appeared unscathed. You say me crazy, but I think you’d believe me anyway. That Ripper that attacked us that night did hit us another time. Gods, I think I would die. But here I am, with an ugly face and an injured arm.”

"You're not ugly." Said Naib, and Norton managed a wry smile. He went up the carriage soon after. 

Naib then thought that Rose Brooks was looking at him again, and he dared not nuzzle the owl. 


	7. The Whitechapel Murders [VII]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments. I was suffering from a lack of internet, but on the bright side, I'm almost finished typing the conclusion. Have you heard the characters wishing a happy second anniversary? Seer's voice is unexpectedly deep!

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [VII]**

The Whitechapel Road which they found themselves in presented as a great contrast to that of the haunted, misty alleyways they had always regarded it to be. In the morning, it was one of the main arteries which conveyed traffic towards the city. The roadway was flooded with an immense stream of carriages and some cars, a rising new commodity among Londoners, flowing in a double tide inward and outward and the footpaths compressed the scurrying pedestrians.

They headed immediately to the apartment that Balsa used to live in. Aesop had chosen to remain in the carriage; his dislike of people was immense, and the hustling and traffic had given him a bad migraine. It was now an abandoned building after the landlady died. The passed down a narrow passage and entered through the side door, as the front door had wooden planks bolted in place.

“A rat’s nest.” Norton aptly concluded. The room smelt sour and of decomposition. The floor, which was probably once a nice shade of brown, was now blanketed over with thick grey dust flowers.

“Someone’s been through here.” Said Naib. He pointed to a pile of debris at a far corner, where there were several notable clean patches.

“Footprints!” Exclaimed Norton. “Must be the prints of an Oxford shoe! The print is also far too big to belong to a woman. It must be ‘Ripper’ who had entered Balsa’s apartment!”

“It has to belong to a woman.” Said Naib. “She wore the shoes of a man to disguise her tracks.”

“What?” Norton asked, his eyes were wide with disbelief.

“The English people of the city have a peculiar manner of walking as it has been trained for many generations. The steps are narrow and thin, pointing forwards. If it is a man, his steps would be wide and confident, as such shows the affability of a gentleman. Furthermore, you can see the steps are light.” Naib stepped onto the dust blanket, and it made a deep imprint. “If it’s yours or mine, the steps would be more prominent, more focused and less scattering of dust particles, as if unsteady on the shoes. Confidence, is what I am saying.”

“And why would a woman wear the shoes of men?” Norton asked. “What is there to gain from it?”

Naib pondered for a moment. “The footprints are also fresh. If I am not wrong, judging by the direction of the footprints, she should have entered by the window-”

“Hullo, are you perhaps detectives?” A genteel voice called out to them. They turned to see a lady well and late in her years; graying hair pulled over by her large fancy hat. She was short and wore horn-rimmed glasses; her skin as fresh and clear as any lady in her twentieth year.

“I chanced upon a lovely lady with her pet bird sitting on steps when I was loitering about this area to offer some flowers. The young lady said that you detectives were investigating this building and she pointed me to the side door. I think I might help you with some details. I’ve spoken to the coroners, but dear me, they thought I was just a difficult old lady.” Said the older woman.

“That would be lovely.” Said Norton quickly, and with such a gentlemanly deposition that Naib could not believe his eyes. The man straightened his tie and vest, before extending out a hand to greet the lady in front of him with a deep bow. “We could always use more details. I cannot stand such despotic murders in Whitechapel.”

“What a chivalrous young man!” Said the lady, looking rather delighted. She then turned to Naib. “Pardon me, but I have witnessed your gait earlier, you seemed like Gurkha.”

Naib trembled instinctively at the statement and drew back his steps a little.

“Ah, fret not.” She quickly continued. “I can only thank you for serving the country. A fate that you all do not deserve.” She looked solemn and Naib struggled to come to terms with a compassion he had never received from the English.

“My good servant was an ex-Gurkha too. He was the only who stood by me, when I was divorced and wrongly accused, and had not a single cent to pay his wage.” She tried a little smile, wrinkles by the side of her face. “I apologise. I should get to the situation at hand. Yes, I used to live in this apartment for a little while after this tenant moved in.”

“I think you should know his name. He was that infamous Luca Balsa.” Said the lady. “There was one night when I was about to move out, and I heard a terrible argument between the landlady and Balsa. You see, Balsa was a man of science, and I think he made something he should not have make- in fact, no man ever should make- right here in this apartment. She had demanded to know what was going on.”

The lady took a short breath, and then continued. “I talked to her before she died, to finish paying up whatever I owed her. When I saw her then, I thought she looked a little out of her mind. She said something about Balsa’s invention being special, that it would change our lives… She said she would make money out of it, but that police had searched Balsa’s apartment much earlier, during his arrest, and there were no evidences to point what the landlady had said.”

The old lady looked a little forlorn, and she looked away. 

“Madam do not worry too much. It would certainly ruin your perfect countenance!” Said Norton.

“The landlady might not have been the best woman, but she was patient to collect the rent from me.” Said the lady. “I need to hurry on my way now. Miss Dyer’s clinic is often filled with so many people!”

“Are you ill?” Naib asked and bit his lip for he realised he was not being t0o courteous. That old lady seemed not to mind. She had seemed rather pleasantly amused instead, as if she had missed this kind of interaction.

“It is the kind of disease one gets in old age. Chills and aching muscles.” Said her. Naib realised she was slightly trembling whenever she spoke, and despite her fair skin and beautiful dress, her hands were terribly deformed. Their joints were swollen and there were bones jutting out in places that they should not be in.

“Take care.” Said Naib. “You have helped us a lot.”

“Thank you, sir.” Said the lady. She did a small curtsy and slowly made her way out with great effort.

It was only when she retreated and her figure not to be seen, did Norton begin to talk once more.

“That’s the bone disease Londoners have been talking about.” Said Norton, as he quickly scrawled on his notebook once more. “Emily talked about it before. If it is according to her words and judging her condition, then that poor lady will not be lasting the winter. Perhaps she is making her last rounds.”

“Perhaps.” Said Naib. He casted a wary eye over the footprints in the room. “Those footprints do not belong to an Oxford shoe. I am wearing Oxford shoes and I am sure that I don’t make the same imprint as that footprint.”

He gestured between the imprint he made and those by the debris. “Look carefully.”

Norton squinted. “Ah my bad, it’s a boot. I almost didn’t recognise the lines. It seemed like the marks that old miner’s boots would make. You know, they have the same circular emblem at the same location on Oxford shoes, so I’d get confused-”

He saw Naib raising an eyebrow at him.

“No way.” Norton sighed heavily.

“You ought to be more observant.” Said Naib.

“I can’t just randomly make up a mental map in the air like you, Naib.” Norton responded defensively. “Why do you think I always write stuff down?”

When they walked out of the building, they saw Emma standing outside, a bunch of old crumpled letters in hand.

“Look, look! You know after this kind old missus left. And she left me a lot of candy! I was wondering why Rose Brooks was not moving from this wall all this time!” She gestured to of a broken wall, which portions of it had been chiselled away, and there remained a mailbox cleverly hidden. “So, I went to where she was, and it looked as if the stones were in a weird position. I went to whack it, and found a secret box filled with letters!”

She seemed thrilled as she bounced on her toes.

“Well done, Emma, I could not tell.” Confessed Naib. Nothing had seemed out of place, even when he stood beside Rose Brooks then.

“Oh, these letters are interesting. It seemed that victim number three had been in contact with victim number one regarding Luca Balsa.” Said Norton as he took one out to read. "There's also a bunch of strange initials here..."

"Right." Said Naib, eyeing the letters. "We have to head to the grocers first."

* * *

“So, I’ve talk to the grocers in the area. Apparently, the cheese ladies’ favourite topic was Balsa.” Said Norton. “Was he that much of a ladies’ man?”

“He had an invention that the black market would die for after all.” Said Aesop dryly.

Norton ignored Aesop and continued. “No one knew what they talked about Balsa. I only knew from the toilet cleaner, one time he had heard when the last victim was alive, she had been screaming something about keys. Balsa had hidden something away, I believe, and they need a key.”

“Would he not come to retrieve them then?” Naib asked.

“If I were him, I be best on the ship to somewhere else!” Norton replied violently, his fists shaking.

“Interesting.” Aesop tapped the carriage’s window as he spoke. The curtains were drawn as it was almost as dark as it was night. “Might you think that the Ripper would have caught wind of us interfering with his affairs, Naib?”

“I do not think so.” Naib replied. “The nightly patrols would have kept him busied.”

“As for the fifth victim, there is no doubt that she knew about Balsa’s invention. In court, she called it a mechanism of greater evil. Once again, the Commissioners in-charge found nothing in Balsa’s apartment and dismissed that claim of hers. They were more concerned with his accidental murder.” Said Aesop.

“Accidental murder?” Naib asked.

“Accidental murder, in truth.” Said Aesop. “But the man was a rich aristocrat. So, those people accused him of first-degree murder.”

“Poor rat!” Cried Emma, who had overheard them outside the carriage. Rose Brooks proceeded to flap her wings, taking the straw hat away, causing the young girl to then run after the owl.

“Rat?” Norton asked, watching the young girl running about. “Anyway, for the third victim, she had mentions of an invention- in this case, we can presume it is the same invention- in her diary.”

“Did the police not take her diary? Who kept it?” Naib asked in shock.

“A junior officer. I bribed him to let me read it.” Said Norton.

“This is strange.” Naib slumped back onto his seat and ran his fingers through his hair.

“This is strange.” He repeated once more.

“What do you mean?” Asked Norton.

“Security is too loose. Nothing has been investigated properly. Everything is so messy. The police did a better job at the town I used to live in.” Said Naib in vexation.

“No one gives a crap about the residents at Whitechapel.” Said Norton.

“Even so, it is too suspicious.” Said Naib. 

“Are you possibly saying that the police are involved in this?” Aesop inquired. “If that is so, I have to inform Miss Nightingale that it is regrettable that we might have to pull out of this case immediately.”

“We will get to the bottom of this.” Insisted Naib. “There’s still about that Ripper that attacked Eli and Norton too.”

Aesop observed him with questioning eyes and nodded stiffly. “Very well, I trust you.”

* * *

“Emma will be the bait; you will walk out of the pub at exactly one o’clock.” Naib instructed the young girl who bobbed her head happily.

“From Norton’s observations, the young lady is the only woman who works at this particular pub. It is as easy to spot her like a black blotch on a white sheet. She starts work at nine and ends at one. She must leave the pub by one as it closes by half past one. In the morning, she tends to the house. She is known to dress well despite her poverty.” Continued Naib. “I will trail from the back, and you from the front.”

“With Andrew.” Said Aesop. “He is after all injured.”

“Now, I don’t feel that bad!” Said Norton.

“The police will be changing shifts during this period.” Said Naib in all seriousness. “Fifteen minutes grace period. Ripper will most likely strike then. He won’t wait for another night and he will mostly be careless in identifying his prey.”

“You seemed to have solved the case in your head.” Said Aesop, as Norton and Emma turned to him in awe.

“And it will remain so for as long as we don’t catch the culprit.” Naib replied with a gentle tip of his hat.


	8. The Whitechapel Murders [VIII]

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [VIII]**

About nine o’clock all the light among the buildings were extinguished, and alleyways of Whitechapel were dark once more. The young lady was not tall by any means, and Emma, who was quite tall for her age was of the same physical built. She had believed their slightly altered stories almost immediately, was deathly pale by the end of it, and confessed to her deeds.

“I did enter Mister Balsa’s apartment when I heard the rumours of it all. I took my father’s shoes and dressed like my father when he was busy with work, so that I would not have any suspicion on me. I have been dressing like a man for a while before my father left, as Jack the Ripper would not have attacked men.” Said the lady. “However, he took all his clothes when he left for Greenland and I fear with my life again.”

She then quickly agreed to Emma being the bait, on the condition that someone should stay with her. Aesop did not vote for himself as a possible candidate, but he was the only man available, thus he reluctantly stayed with her when the time came.

“Just hurry up. She stinks of alcohol and men.” Said Aesop in a hushed whisper. He had his briefcase close to his chest, like he was trying to create an extra sense of space between himself and her. They took residence in a nearby inn which Naib had rented for a night. “The owner was giving me weird stares. They think I would copulate with a whore!”

“What do you expect if a well-dressed man would bring a dirty woman to an inn, booking a single room?” Norton asked, looking slightly amused.

“Naib should have us in separate single rooms.” Cried Aesop.

“That defeats the purpose of you watching her!” Norton exclaimed.

“How long would that take?” Aesop asked.

“That would depend if Ripper would hurry up.” Said Norton. “Besides it be only fifteen minutes at most. Would you rather play a game of tag with the Ripper?”

“I don’t like being with others!” Said Aesop in desperation. “Please hurry.”

From the outside came the cries of mating cats, and from the windows a long, drawn-out whistle by the night winds. Norton shuddered, and looked at his pocket watch. It was almost time. They stood at their respective positions, skilfully avoiding the police with Naib’s directions and silently waited what it was to before among them.

They heard the shrill ringing of the bells and Emma quickly left the pub. She walked for a bit behind the buildings, where there was not a single soul for about five minutes, following the directions she was instructed to go. Naib felt that she seemed quite bold for a lady walking home in the dark, despite showing a sense of cautiousness and skittishness. She paused occasionally to look around like a little mouse and continued her way.

Suddenly, there was a momentary gleam of shadow which flashed for a moment, and the gaslit lamps started to flicker. There was a gentle sound of movement, and Naib strained his ears. Silence returned once more, and Naib could hear his breath against his pounding chest. Then, the gas lamp ahead of Emma was extinguished, and Naib sprang from his spot and lashed out his cane with such ferocity only seen in the battlefields.

He met hot metal, and Emma shrieked in fright, scrambling to run quicker towards the pull of Norton’s magnets. From his back, Naib whipped out a pocketknife and thrusted it into the shoulder of the attacker. There which broke the silence of the night, was a horrible cry of disbelief, that he the great killer was caught unaware and being assaulted instead.

Naib was then sent spinning towards the asphalt ground, and he felt that his face met with the cold urine on the pavements and the stench of ammonia was thick in his nostrils. He thought that he would get struck, for he was not in a position of advantage to strike back and there were no trenches to take cover. He thought of lessening the impact, but a screech of a bird was heard and instead plumes covered his vision. Rose Brooks flapped her wings violently against the face of the Ripper.

Naib scrambled to his feet, and Norton’s cry was in the distance. He hobbled up and swung the cane straight to the man’s face and dodged the claw that was about to cleave him open. He rolled to the side and kicked the man at his ankles, jumped back and realised that his back met a brick wall. Night raids were a thing of the Gurkha, but he had never fought in such enclosed areas. Based on the length of the weapon, he was at a clear disadvantage for they both fought in the same manner. The manner of the Gurkha. 

He wanted to listen for the next coming attack, so he listened intensively. Instead, there was a deep hum like a lost melody. Someone was breathing hard. Someone was walking furtively. Somehow, in his addled mind, the alleyways became misty.

And then, the scent of cypress trees.

“I do not stand for lowly imitations.” Said he.

Like that, the Ripper came to an end with a single swift strike. He laid not moving against the pavement, in his own pool of blood, for it smelt of rust and iron. He groaned painfully and then, there was silence.

“You…” Begun Naib. He was not sure if the man would strike him next.

“You are well.” Said the other instead. “You survived. And they did not use you for their experiments.”

“The artist.” Said Naib at last.

“I survived too.” Replied the other.

“Are you ‘The Ripper’? Why did you attack Eli and Norton? Where have you been after all this time?” Naib asked.

“You are so full of questions as before, but I shall only answer you.” Said the other. He made a deep rumble in his throat, but his voice as haunting and soothing as before. “I am not ‘The Ripper’; they had chosen to call me so. I saved your friends; they had ventured too much into his territory. The Seer knows; he took my attack so that he and his friend would not take a fatal attack from this imitation of mine. He would not attack for he sees they are dearly injured and would not give himself away when they stumbled onto the main road. And I, all this while, have been searching for something.” 

“For what?” Persisted Naib.

“For my other weapon, which he had taken in the war. He made ugly kills out of them, however and wielded them with no skills. I have set my expectations too high.” The other replied and concluded with affirmation. “I shall abandon that weapon.”

Naib remained silent as he pondered over the memories of war.

“I am glad you came to London.” The man said at last. “I have missed you.”

Naib whipped up his head to look at him. “Yeah.” That was all he could manage. He had never been one of many words when it came to his feelings, not that he thought the other needed more than that.

“What is your name?” Naib asked.

The other leaned down, and Naib saw that his face was encased in a mask, but the outline of his features were still visible and still as he remembered. “Call me Jack.” Said he.

“That is not your real name.” Said Naib.

“What is your original name then?” Asked Jack.

“I forgot.” Naib replied dryly, but indeed he had forgotten. He only knew to carry the honour of his father, respect the wishes of his mother, only for everything to fade into ashes.

“Then, it makes us even. I left my name behind in the war too.” Jack responded.

“Last question.” Said Naib.

“Go ahead.” Replied Jack.

“Do you kill women? From the legends, it seemed that Jack stalked women and killed them.” Said Naib. He recalled the newspaper clippings that carried the names of the women who met with an unfortunate end. “Both you and I have taken lives. My palms will always be stained with my comrades’ blood, my enemies’ blood, but I promised that no way will my hands be stained with an innocent’s blood. If you stand that way… there is no way that we are going to what was before.”

“I do not commit such vulgar actions.” Said Jack. “I might have a tad obsessed with my job, however. Perhaps that is why such a terrible story have been conjured out of my character. My darling, there is more than what the naked eye sees. There is something more than war. A world of gods and creatures.”

“You will find no lie.” Added Jack. “Did that Seer’s owl not save you earlier? You must have sensed something otherworldly. Will you still go home now?”

Naib’s eyes widened with shock. “Are you with the Manor Owner?”

“You had your last question answered. Your friend is coming. Farewell, my darling. I will tie the loose ends of this case for you.” Said Jack, not giving a reply. “I will see you again if you desire to stay, that is.”

Like that, the misty figure retreated, turning almost invisible and all that remained was a white trail of foggy footsteps. The smell of cypress trees remained strong, and the sound of his voice played over in his head.

He then rigidly turned to the imitator, who struggled to sit up despite his deep wounds. Jack had cleanly cut of his tendons and severed a deep portion of his flesh. The imitator’s hair was brown as described and he bore the same skin colour as Naib.

“Gurkha.” Said Naib. “I knew.”

The man could only gurgle thick flesh blood in reply.

“I am sorry.” Said Naib as he took the claws of him. “But at least, I won’t let you die as a monster. You will be a victim of ‘The Ripper’. It is better that she doesn’t know of this in her last days.”

The man looked at him with an emotion that could not be quite described, and as his eyes welled up with pink tears, he convulsed violently, before becoming motionless and Naib knew the light had left his eyes. He remained in a dreadful, rigid stare to the corner of the streets, but his blooded hands lightly grasped Naib’s. Everything ended in thirteen minutes.

He saw Norton running towards him.

“The police will be coming! Andrew has a carriage; we can run now.” Cried Norton. His face drastically paled in horror at the sight.

“Is that man dead? Did you kill him?” Cried Norton.

“The Ripper did.” Said Naib as he held the claw and a mask. Norton looked at him with great confusion. “Let’s go. I’ll explain on the way.”

* * *

“So now, you need a body.” Said Aesop, eyebags weighing on his handsome features. They went back to Old Kent Road, and now were seated in the empty clinic. Aesop had the lady stay the inn and left the moment he saw Andrew’s carriage turning by the corner. She was reluctant for him to go, but he had a good sum of money with him, and she said no word longer.

“I don’t get anything.” Norton scratched his head in frustration. “Why are we concealing ‘The Ripper’s identity?”

“For the last of the Gurkha that served the war, he deserved this much. Please.” Said Naib.

“Fine.” Said Aesop after a while, fondling with a note. “There are a lot of dead bodies, burning one is nothing.”

In the dead of the dawn near four, Naib and Norton headed to the borders of Whitechapel where the police did not patrol, doused the body, the mask and the claw with gasoline and set it on fire. Smoke danced in the air as the flames licked the body, along with the empty warehouse that it was in. Norton said nothing and just stared vacantly.

On that very night, nearly at the same moment, Naib saw another luminous orange in the direction of Balsa’s previous apartment. He paid no heed and continued on his way, as the sirens echoed deep into the night.

Since the building was old, it burnt down swiftly and not a trace of Balsa’s property remained. No one knew or saw what happened that night. They only talked about misty footsteps and strange animal scratched marks.

The Press mainly went over in frenzy over the possibility of ‘The Ripper’ having died in the manner of self-immolation. Meanwhile, the actual ‘Ripper’ was forgotten, because he was Gurkha and the English cared not about Gurkha. And he died with no title to carry, his death unreported. He would be thrown in an unmarked mass grave. That would be the end of it all.

Perhaps, that would be the end of it all?


	9. The Whitechapel Murders [VIIII]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for the Epilogue and then we will finally meet Joseph! And finally, I get to reveal rat man!

**“COMMISSONER IN-CHARGE OF WHITECHAPEL FOUND DEAD. IS THIS THE MARK OF EVIL OR GOD’S WRATH?”**

“What is this?” Shrieked Norton as he held the papers in his hand. Two days later, they had resumed back to their original routine at the detective agency. Somehow when they had returned, the heaters and electrical lightbulbs were working again, and they would not have to suffer the coming winter cold.

He thought how Eli got things done so quickly and had been surprised to see Rose Brooks comfortably nestled in her perching corner. He recalled searching for the owl, but he could not do it long, for the police were in a mad panic over the sudden burning buildings. Emma had told him not to worry and that Rose Brooks always knew her way home.

“That is when all will end.” Said Naib, slowly sipping his coffee. The nightmare was ended now, and Naib enjoyed the consciousness of an immense relief. He leaned back and felt his muscles aching. His current clothes were dirtied and were in the wash, hence he was comfortably clad in his sleepwear once more.

“Martha’s report is here.” Norton fumbled through the letters with his good hand that gathered at their front carpet. Naib mentally noted to have a mailbox fixed there. “He was apparently embezzling tax funds. Surprisingly, he was killed in the same manner as the ladies, with a slit on his neck-”

“Continue.” Said Naib, as he cracked at an eye at the abrupt pause.

“Holy-” Norton swore, and Naib frowned heavily. “Alright. So, listen to this.”

“I am listening.”

“Alright, so the one that accused Balsa, the lady at the court, was his niece! Not only he took money, he falsified Balsa’s report of him killing his mentor. Well, but they are not going to announce it to cover up their incompetency. Such a man! No wonder he was ended by the Ripper.” Said Norton excitedly. “Well in the end, you said the actual Ripper turned up and ended the fake Ripper so…”

Naib had told Norton that the actual Ripper had turned up to end the imitator. He was not sure if he should mention Jack’s name, but he thought he should keep it as a secret for now. There were too many things, and he did not want to stray the focus away from the case.

“Indeed.” Said Naib. “Right. ‘The Ripper’ was a Gurkha. I figured out by the way of their wounds and the manner of attack on every individual. Only a Gurkha assassin would inflict wounds as deadly and swift like that, and there are not many Gurkha left after the war. I believe was that servant of the old lady; he had caught wind of news of the invention when he stayed in the apartment with her. The old lady moved out, but she also remained in Whitechapel, no? That was how she was able to walk to Emily Dyer’s clinic despite her terrible bone disease.”

“She mentioned that her Gurkha was loyal, so he wouldn’t leave her side, and this could only mean two things. One, he could only strike at a certain timing, which why the killings were only at a certain timing. Two, he couldn’t stray too far from Whitechapel.” Continued Naib. 

“Why would he do such devious acts?” Norton asked in shock, not expecting Naib to have deduced the entire case. There was a short knock on the door, and Emma rushed down the stairs to answer it. It was Aesop, bearing his coat and suitcase once more.

“I figured out as much.” Said Aesop.

“Were you listening at the door?” Norton gawked.

“Your alleyway isn’t exactly very noisy. In fact, it is devoid of life, if you do not include the rats.” Said Aesop.

“I’ll be mindful to keep my volume down.” Said Naib sheepishly.

“No worries.” Aesop settled at the armchair. “People rarely come here. I’ll make my case quick. These interactions are draining me so physically and mentally.”

He sighed, as he reached for a nicely folded paper in his suitcase. He gingerly handed it over to Naib and proceeded speaking. “I have read a letter from Emily last night. She left a note regarding the old lady and her Gurkha, which was why I decided to loan you my aid in getting you a dead body. She had confessed to Emily that her Gurkha servant was deeply troubled, and she wondered if it all has to do with suitcase she had taken from Balsa when she moved.”

“She took something from him?” Norton quickly sat up.

“By accident. She mixed up the bags when she moved, and when she had the strength to return it, Balsa had been arrested. She kept loitering the building ever since and wondered if she could ever return the suitcase to him.”

“Emily is a sharp woman.” Naib observed. “So, what about the suitcase?”

“Lady Nightingale has gone to collect it.” Said Aesop. “This case is no longer in our hands.”

“Right.” Said Norton. “Anyway Naib, you hadn’t answered my question.”

“At first, I believed he needed the money and any possible lead, but he was trying to warn the Commissioner. The silt on the neck… is a warning. I finally remembered. The assassins did that as a message to our enemies. ‘Do not come.’ Is what it meant.” Said Naib.

“Yes.” Aesop nodded his head. “As I presumed, for it was a sharp, clean cut.”

“What was such an influential girl doing in Whitechapel? Gathering information, I believe, which why rumours of Balsa with his secret inventions spread like wildfire among the women. That should have been the suitcase the old lady took by mistake, because no one found anything in his apartment. The old lady also might have a hunch to that, for she described his mechanisms to be a machine that ‘no man should ever make’. The police did not dismiss her as a mad woman but was rather very interested in her.” Said Naib. “Hence, the murder investigations were messy.”

“He killed the ladies in an extreme measure to protect her. He was mad and tormented by war by the passing days, I knew those eyes and I saw them, he already had lost himself somewhere. Hence, he just went up the killing frenzy and just destroyed anyone who associated themselves with Balsa.” Said Naib. “It happens to soldiers being experimented on.”

“Human experiments? Were you being experimented on?” Norton gasped.

“No, I was spared- fortunately. The Manor Owner bought me out of the hospital and eradicated all traces of my records in time.” Said Naib. He then held his tongue for a moment, for all the incidences seemed to be so well-timed. 

“Right, so that concludes our case on the ‘The Whitechapel Murders’.” Said Aesop, placing a thick file on the coffee table.

“What about the actual Ripper?” Norton asked hurriedly.

“He always had been there, and he did nothing of deviousness.” Said Naib. Norton and Aesop saw the glint in his eye, and they both knew that they should not ask anymore.

The original case had been resolved, and the haunting figure in London had came to an end. Though, the ladies whispered that his shadow could still be seen on the walls, underneath a gaslit lamp on a dark night in Whitechapel Road.

* * *

“You knew.” Said Naib plainly as he entered through the doors. Eli was still in bed, but he was on a smooth road to recovery. He had a book in his hand, which Naib thought was very strange for a man who could not see.

“Just a mere fraction of it.” Eli replied. “You have so many questions.”

“And none answered.” Naib replied firmly.

“Some things are not meant to be known by the common man.” Said Eli as he tilted his chin inquisitively. “Your ticket is on the table.”

“Ticket?” Echoed Naib weakly.

“Home.” Eli gave a small smile. “I was asked to purchase your ticket when the case is over.”

Naib headed to the table, and saw that indeed, was a ticket for a ship to Nepal. It was one of the best cabins, of the best ships in London. Naib then vaguely remembered about the English mentioning the beginning of the constructing best cruise liner in the world, the Titanic.

“You can leave and start life anew. Forget terrible London.” Said Eli.

“Can I use this anytime?” Naib asked, holding the ticket.

“I’m sure it is possible. The Manor Owner has many connections.” Said Eli. “Do you wish to stay?”

Naib thought of the scent of cypress trees, and his heart thrummed within his chest. “A little while more.”

Eli managed a smile Naib could not quite tell. Was it of pity? Was it of gratitude? 

“Very well.” Said Eli eventually.

Naib looked at him. He was not quite sure how to reply to Eli, until he heard a sudden hiss of machinery, and the sound of taut ropes pulling, only to see a notorious face by the window. He was extremely dirty, coarsely clad if Naib might add, with familiar black and white striped outfit of London’s prison. His auburn hair messy tied back, a broad purplish wheal from an old scar that ran down his left eye and a fiendish smile graced his features. He was no ugly man, certainly a beauty in his past days, and that man of many troubles, Luca Balsa.

Naib’s eyes widened in shock as his jaw went slack.

“Luca, is that you?” Said Eli with a pitch higher in his tone. His smile was tighter than the usual, and he hadn’t turned to Naib. “Please don’t enter this way! Others might see you.”

“Aye, Eli, my friend.” Said Luca, with a chuckle. “I never expected you would have a guest during this time of the day. It is only that pretty Miss Dyer who comes so often. No one comes to these alleyways anyway, save for the rats.”

“I did tell you that your case has been solved.” Said Eli. “Norton and Naib will stay here for most times now. The streets will be more bustling.”

He then turned to Naib, sounding rather apologetic. “If you weren’t heading back, I have been pondering for the longest while how am I supposed to break this news to you.”

Luca casually slung in by the window, lifting the book from Eli’s lap as he spoke. “Eli found me by the trash about a month ago when I broke out from prison. I stayed in here since then. Do you want me to continue from chapter fifteen?”

“The story can wait.” Said Eli.

“On the third floor.” Said Naib as calmly as he could. “You have always stayed.”

“On the third floor.” Affirmed Luca.

“I told you to keep your experiments down.” Eli chided softly. “You broke the fuse the other day, and you had to fall so loudly!”

“Does Emma know?” Naib asked, feeling quite faint.

“Ah the sweet girl!” Luca exclaimed far too gleefully. “We had so much fun chasing away the rats on the first week together! The third floor is pest-free, and my personal laboratory!”

“Did you know how much trouble you have caused?” Naib gritted his teeth. He could not find it in himself to be confused, angry and surprised; everything came crashing to him like a freight train. He was terribly exhausted, and a day of sleep had not sufficed the tension he experienced since he arrived in London. 

“Is this about my secret invention? To tell you the truth, whatever I had was a prototype. I did not know how it became a ‘secret invention’. Was it that man again? He always exaggerates whatever I made. It only became fatal because he touched it before I installed safety protocols, and it had to electrocute that woman in the room too!” Said Luca as he scratched his noise. Naib thought that man was covered in dust, and he smelt like mould.

In a span of fifteen minutes, he not only learnt that Luca had no ability to keep a secret whatsoever, that man equally had a poor sense of hygiene. He told everything to Naib. From how his once benefactor had knew the fifth victim, and they had wanted of his inventions.

Despite the fresh clothes Eli offered him, he had not changed out from his old wear. Eli had always reminded him to shower, but now that he was injured, Luca had not showered for days.

“And you did not say a word about how he smelt.” Said Naib accusingly towards Eli. “I thought someone actually got killed in your apartment, until I saw a dead cat by the corner.”

“I did.” Said Eli, and Naib almost felt sorry for him. The helplessness in Eli’s voice was overwhelming. “I tried to get off bed to get him to shower, but it hurt so bad to stand.”

“Anyway, you knew of the chaos out there?” Naib asked.

“A little.” Confessed Luca. “But my pretty face is plastered on every corner of the street. I am unable to go around.”

Luca had not felt miserable, but revealed he never did like the ladies who died. They came after his fortune, which was meagre, for it was only comprised of his dwindling inheritance he had received from his late father. The ‘benefactor’ had pocketed every cent from things he invented, but Luca had not minded, for he loved the art of invention more than anything else.

"What is in the case that the old lady took by accident?" Naib asked. 

"Just a prototype of a hacking device." Luca replied candidly. 

"You mean it can intercept telegrams." Said Naib.

"Somewhat, but it is a failed invention." Said Luca. "I no longer bear interest with it."

Naib was starting to think that Luca was only obsessed with creating inventions for his own pleasures and curiosities, whatever consequences they brought barely had an effect on him. 

“Finally.” Said Naib. “Did you know there is a man downstairs who wants probably wants you dead?”

“Norton, right? I stole nothing from him. That real thief probably made use of one the inventions that was sold in the black market.” Said Luca defensively.

“I was planning to break this news to him slowly, but he seemed so angry whenever I mentioned Luca’s name.” Said Eli, but he sounded as if he was pleading. “Should we wait a little? I told dear Emma to wait.”

Naib pondered for a bit and decided he might just have enough for the day.

“That is fine.” Concluded Naib. Norton would wait another day.


	10. The Whitechapel Murders [X] Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I have ended! Thank you for staying through the first case and supporting me! (Epilogue is needed as an excuse for more JackNaib and more reasons for him to visit the agency.)

**The Strange Case of Naib Subedar [X]**

**Epilogue**

It was always busy in Emily Dyer’s clinic, but in the early mornings, it would be especially quiet. There was no rain, as Andrew had foretold, and the morning broke bright and cloudless. Emily could easily travel to collect her medicines from Lady Michiko. It must be a secret affair, for the English do not take well to foreign drugs.

When she pulled open the door, she was met by the old lady; the one who was short and bore horn-rimmed glasses. She knew that she was about sixty, and her constitution had been shattered by the incurable bone disease; it was painful for her to walk, but she had not the funds to hire a carriage.

“The pain has been keeping me up all night.” Said the poor old lady.

“Oh dear.” Said Emily. “Should I give you more morphine? Effective painkillers, they are.”

“It is fine, Miss Dyer.” The old lady replied. “You have given more so much more than I ought to pay for. I know I would live no longer. But have you heard? A fire ravaged the apartment that I used to stay in.”

She started sobbing, terribly aggrieved. Rivulets of tears pouring from her pale blue eyes, as blue as it was in her twentieth year. She was a beauty in her younger days, but she had no luck with men, for her husband cheated everything out of her and she only had lived in poverty since he left with his mistress. They did meet their unfortunate end however, when they died in a carriage one stormy night. She was left with her servant, who was ex-Gurkha, and she talked about him all the time.

“I wonder where he is now.” Confessed the lady, as she held a handkerchief to her face. “I told him to leave me to find a new life, for I am weak and dying. He recently did, and I hope he is in a better place now. I was just devastated that the place where we had stayed for the longest is gone.”

“I am sure he is in a better place now.” Said Emily, grasping her hands gently.

She then turned to the shelves where small bags, presumably medication, had been packed. With trembling fingers and a touch of hesitation, she lifted a small bag and handed to the woman. “It’s on the clinic.” Said Emily. “Please, take it. This will help you feel better.”

“Thank you.” The old lady replied gratefully, and kissed Emily on her cheeks. “You have been so kind.”

She left as quietly as she came, and Emily watched her figure limped through the streets. Emily had not said her goodbyes, and only waved back listlessly, keeping her face as vacuous as possible. 

No loose ends, Lady Nightingale had said.

“No loose ends.” Echoed Emily, bile raising in her throat, her chest constricting and her hands tingling. She felt her nose stung and her tongue bitter, and she attributed it to the horses' waste on the street.

It would be a swift end to a tragic tale, she had been assured.

Someone would clear the body by tonight. Unknowingly, Aesop would have another coffin ready by then. Unknowingly, Andrew would dig another hole in the graveyards. 

* * *

“Is this not lovely?” Eli lifted Rose Brooks to present her new look to the others. They were back to their daily routines, which basically consisted of lounging around. Although Naib had taken over a portion of the housework, since Eli still could not do heavy work.

“It’s a spyglass.” Said Norton. “Certainly. It is something extremely odd to give to an owl.”

Naib had assumed that Luca must have made it for him, as it was certainly a much more advanced-looking spyglass in the entirety of London, and London was the city thriving with the best technologies of its time. It even supplied the materials to building the Titanic!

“I like it.” Said Eli genuinely, and the owl hooted happily in reply.

As Norton tried convincing Eli how an owl would not benefit from a spyglass with Emma stealing cookies from a jar once more, Naib had left to smoke outside. He leaned on the grimy railings of River Thames, which smelt foul. For once, he did not mind.

He stood silently for a few minutes, his arms folded, legs comfortably aligned and his gaze directing to the dull buildings opposite the bank. He heard a gentle rustle, and noticed the fog gathering beneath his ankles.

“You really tied up all the loose ends.” Said Naib.

“You really decided to stay.” Jack replied.

“Will I expect more visits from you?” Naib asked, briar pipe in mouth as he turned to the taller man, a grin apparent on his face.

“Perhaps, would you like me to visit?” Said Jack. He sounding as if he enjoyed himself. “Shall I be the fleeting bird by the window every morning?”

“Or you could come in like a normal gentleman.” Said Naib.

“That is an idea to entertain.” Said Jack, as he lowered his head to meet Naib’s. Naib playfully lifted his mask, but Jack prevented him from taking it off.

“Only up till my nose.” Said Jack, as he cupped Naib’s cheek. “Mr. Reason.”

“Is that what you call me?” Said Naib, but he did not mind.

“No, it is what they called you.” Said Jack.

 _They?_ Naib pondered over his words, but he did not fuss over the meaning of it. He did decide to stay in London for a while, and the mysteries would slowly unravel to him in time. 

And in that alleyway where no one came, they kissed. One smelt like rich tobacco, and the other smelt like cypress-trees, and Naib loved both scents.

There was a glint by a small window above them before it disappeared with a soft chirp.

“And so, among the death, a love rose blooms. Come here, Rose Brooks.” Said Eli wistfully as he raised his hand for the owl to land. He then clapped his hands gently as if he had witnessed some theatre play.

“What sort of new shit are you sprouting?” Said Norton, astonished by Eli’s strange words. His injuries had healed rather quickly with the aid of Emily’s medication. Although, it might take awhile for his arm to get better.

Eli had not reply, but instead headed to the shelves to grab his coffee beans with a slight limp. “We may need to stock up on coffee beans for I predict we might have a new guest.” Chuckled Eli.

Norton huffed, and scooted up the stairs. He wanted to rest. He had been hearing the tinkering of tools and metal pieces clanking together, or the buzzing sounds of circuit connections. It was as if someone had been building something upstairs and it bothered him to no end.

He had wanted to tell them, but they might think he had a screw loose. Eli, Emma, and Naib had not acted as if anything was out of place; he blamed it on his obsessions with Balsa. He could have investigated the cause of it all, but he hated dark and cramp areas, which was the exact description of the third floor.

He had been in there once, and it reminded him of the time that he was trapped in the mines. There were huge rodents scurrying about and he disliked it greatly. From then, he never stepped a foot in it again. Lying on his bed, he tried to close his eyes. Dust fell onto his face and he quickly snapped them open once.

He thought he heard the floorboards above cracking, and he rolled over quickly, having the instincts of one who had survived a collapsing mine. The wood above gave way, splinters cascading about, saw dust permeated the air, and a huge figure collapsed onto his bed.

“Ouch. Is that why he tells me to never go to this portion of the third floor? I didn’t think the wooden planks were so loose.” Luca rubbed his head, feeling quite sore.

And Norton Campbell stood by his desk, his good hand supporting his weight as his eyes went wide and his muscles all tensed. He might had look like a lunatic from White Sands Street Asylum, the unknown Bedlam of England. Raising a trembling arm and an accusing finger, he shrieked. 

“Luca Balsa!”


	11. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second installment is here! Thank you for your patience, your comments and your support! It is lovely to know that people enjoy reading as much as I enjoy conjuring up these stories.  
> I am planning to move NaibEli to another story due to Eli's new skin, but I have no idea how to write about deserts so it may take a while! Death valley is an interesting concept to explore.

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl**

In the house Aesop once lodged at in France also lived Joseph Desaulnier, the great Desaulnier, who he regarded as a man of art; the great photographer that held not a title to his name. Even unknown, Joseph was great, and that was clearly reflected in the pictures he took. The sacred sense of preservation; Aesop had found a kinship, and no one understood more than he did, the eternity, the beauty, the life all coalescing to a single point where one would grasp in their hands to fulfill.

At last, he left for England. But Joseph remained a beautiful man in his image. The man was not tall by any means, but he cut an elegant, sometimes an occasional coquettish figure. He was very fair, his silver hair, sometimes a platinum blond underneath the dancing sun rays, put into small curls, and bore sapphire blue eyes that reflected the glimmering waves of the Atlantic. His cheeks were blushed; it reminded Aesop of milk, and in this milk-like face often mingled a half-sweet, half-bitter expression of sorrow. A sorrow so deep that no one seemed to comprehend, and that no one should comprehend.

In the hallway, there was a portrait picture. It was old, and most probably taken by the first cameras of its kind, for it looked grainy and distorted on some ends. A photograph of himself that was, except he was smiling a little more. Despite its aged exterior, it almost seemed to reveal the deepest secrets of his soul. So life-like was that picture, it almost seemed to greet Aesop when he came up the stairs, as if Joseph himself had stood there.

It had been years, but not once did he forget about Joseph Desaulnier. 

* * *

“Can you believe it? Can you-”

“Norton, language.” Eli paled drastically when Norton swore, using another epithet in his extensive vocabulary for unprecedented events.

“-believe it? That rat arse, that dirty gremlin, fell straight up onto my covers!” Norton was screaming and stomping his foot every possible second while he gestured at Luca who was gobbling cookies along with Emma. “It’s been a week, and it is driving me nuts! The horror! My soul!”

“What is the problem? Eli has given you his bed.” Said Naib as he lazily flipped the papers. “Besides, Eli is more injured. He should be having the bed.”

Norton’s voice died away into deep rumble.

“Luca Balsa.” Said Norton as he flushed a deep red once more. “Are you sure you did not steal that invention of mine?”

“By the heavens, Norton. You sound like a crazy old man.” Said Luca, as he shoved another cookie into his mouth. He looked as if he could not care less, and Naib was slightly concerned over the brown crumbs and chocolate stains that had littered onto the papers on the table. “Have you gone senile? I’ve been saying for like one hundred and fifty-seven times that I stole nothing-”

“That’s it! I’m going to kill him!” Roared Norton, thrusting himself across the room. Luca jumped like a rat and unceremoniously crashed onto the perch where Rose Brooks was on. The owl released a shrill cry and flapped her wings in anger, having been interrupted her sleep.

Naib, with great instincts, quickly hooked him away and swung him onto the armchair. Despite his small figure, Naib bore great strength and agility. Norton almost had no chance to react. Emma just moved the cookie jar away, but unfortunately with her clumsy gait, collided with a stack of files at the corner of the room. Sheets of paper scattered onto the wooden ground. Eli tried to sip his coffee in calm. 

Then, there was a sharp knock at the door, permeating the chaos in the air.

“Letter!” A voice announced at the doorway, followed by a bark.

Eli scrambled to the door, Rose Brooks settling on his shoulders as he fumbled for the doorknob.

“Victor.” Eli rasped. He looked terribly aggrieved, despite the bandages concealing his eyes.

“Letter from Lady Nightingale.” Said the man called Victor. Beside him was a dog, seemingly of a strange breed. He looked like a pug, but far too stout and small to be one as well. Victor stood a little far-away from the door and had to stretch his arm when he handed a letter to Eli.

“Another case? It has barely been a week.” Eli remarked as he felt the familiar seal with his hand.

“Did you see him?” Norton then asked Victor, his eyes darting back and forth. “Did you see him?”

“Luca Balsa? Yes, I do see him.” Said Victor.

“Morning, Victor.” Said Luca as he strode over to the door. “Want some cookies?”

“No, thank you.” Said Victor, who adjusted his hat instead. “I would rather that you would care for your hygiene a little more. I shall be on my way now. Have a good day and don’t stand too far out where you can be seen.”

Luca shrugged listlessly.

“Have a good day.” Eli replied as Victor wasted no haste in running away.

“He knows you?” Norton was extremely agitated, nearly shouting. “Why does everyone know, but me? Eli, I demand we talk now!”

Eli shrunk back a little as he turned away from Norton.

“Come on, Nortie. I knew Victor like five years ago. It’s not Eli’s fault.” Said Luca.

“Nortie?” Norton exclaimed in exasperation.

“You have more testosterone then your usual teenage boys.” Luca offhandedly commented. “Always getting angry at minor things.”

“I will have Aesop order a coffin by tonight.” Norton gritted his teeth as Luca scooted up the stairs before Norton could land an offending blow at him.

“What the did the letter say?” Naib asked and Eli quickly handed the envelope to him.

“It would be faster if you read it.” Eli chuckled sheepishly and Naib felt apologetic for being a little too insensitive.

_“Dear Detectives. With your newest addition, I thank you for your great help in resolving the Whitechapel Murders. The streets of London are safer again. However, there was an urgent request from one of my clients and I may only trouble you with it once more. Would you meet him in Borough Market for more details around noon tomorrow?”_

“It seems that the client is a man who is a lover of art, a great patron of several artists, in fact and that his precious art had been stolen. He wants us to find the thief.” Said Naib. 

“Borough Market is a long way from here.” Eli responded. He scratched his cheek in contemplation, before turning to Norton’s general direction.

“Leave me out of this, Eli.” Said Norton, feeling quite sour. “I’m done with the cases. I’ve got to find my magnets and the gold mine.”

“Alright.” Said Eli, unfazed. “Let us pack up. We are going to stay out for a few days. And you do need new clothes.”

Naib gazed down and analysed himself, to which he had to admit he did not have a decent closet. Still, he had to ponder, was Eli not blind? He did not question much, and he did as what Eli had told him. It was early in the dawn when they called for the carriage, Naib had insisted, for he still saw Eli walking with a bad limp. Norton had seemed quite unconcerned about Eli’s situation.

“He’s really angry with me.” Said Eli when Naib thought it was time to confront the other. “Norton’s a good guy, really. But the magnets meant a lot to him and Luca is not exactly the best at social interaction either. I was being selfish, not telling him about Balsa, and dragging him to this entire case.”

“Fine.” Naib reluctantly agreed when Eli emphasised once more that Norton just needed some space.

He watched bitterly as Eli hobbled to the carriage, Rose Brooks in hand, with much difficulty. Naib had chided Jack for hurting his friends earlier, and Jack offered much money in compensation under an anonymous name. It was aplenty to keep them afloat and Eli had been uncharacteristically thrilled to have money to last for three months.

They also received their uniforms, looking good as new, and were now donned in their respective outfits. Naib had understood that the Manor Owner would replace any lost or worn part of their uniforms quickly.

It was then he heard footsteps and he turned to meet Luca. Eli had made sure he showered last night, and never would Naib see such a sight again in his life. He knew that hygiene made the gentleman, but in this case, it looked as if Luca’s face peeled off under the sponge like a tree bark.

He looked like an entirely different person. The brown tint which marred his skin was gone, and the black wheal which gave such a repulsive look to his face was no longer as horrid as it was. He looked nothing, and nothing like man in the posters. Now standing in front of him was a refined-looking man, his tangled auburn hair now neatly combed and bearing smooth skin, looking at him with a lazy grin. Emma had constantly stared in wild bewilderment, unable to believe it was the same man who lived on the third floor.

“Elbow pads.” Said Luca, offering him a wrapped package in cloth. “I made sure it matches with your outfit too.”

“What for?” Naib found himself nearly at a loss for words.

“You’re a soldier, aren’t you? Saw how you flipped Norton onto the armchair with such grace. Surely, you can make use of these. They slide quickly along the walls, and help you escape from prickly situations if needed.” Luca explained as he retreated to the shadows, away from the gaslit lamps. “Take them, as thanks for yesterday.”

“Would you be alright with Norton?” Naib asked.

“He would never step foot in the third floor.” Said Luca. “As long as I don’t show my face, he should be fine.”

“Then I have to make sure you shower once we come back.” Said Naib.

Luca chuckled, and quickly headed into the building when he noticed the coachman hopping from his seat to help with the bags. Naib tipped his hat and walked towards the carriage.

Norton spied their interactions from the windows with a jaded gaze. He bit his lip, as he felt a heat searing his very insides. His gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of metal pens and ink, as he never cleared the desks he used. Why should he be mad, he thought in foul temperament, he should focus on his goals!

After all, the Manor Owner had promised him great, unimaginable wealth if he had found the gold mine. The gold mine, which would start London’s gold rush. He had heard of the gold rushes throughout Europe, and he would be the man to make history here.

The phone on Eli’s desk then rung, disrupting his thoughts. Having given up on his train of thoughts, he emerged in no sweet temper to answer the caller. However, upon hearing the call, his eyes were blown wide, and he dropped the receiver with a pale face and trembling hands.

“Naib! Eli!” He hollered as he ran down the stairs and onto the streets, not caring if his injured arm had hurt. “Naib! Eli!”

However, the carriage was gone. It had already departed to Borough Market.

There on the phone, was Emily Dyers, sobbing hysterically as she tried to gasp for breath. “Are you there, Mister Campbell? What should I do? Oh, what should I do?”

Aesop Carl, the embalmer of Old Kent Street, had suddenly disappeared from work last night. 

All that was left behind was a pool of blood and a note with terrible handwriting. 

Norton, panting in the autumn cold, swore in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Shit.”


	12. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier [II]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments everyone! I am going to make this more supernatural for this case, yes as predicted. Please take care during this period, everyone and have a good read(^^b). There might be graphic depictions of illness here that might make readers uncomfortable, do be warned.   
> (Also, Happy Character Day Robbie!)

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl [II]**

The strain from the last few days had left him quite ill. He had come down with a high fever, accompanied by heavy sweats. Emily had given him foreign medicine, which alleviated the persistent migraines to some extent. However, he strangely found no rest and no dreams. When he dragged his terribly exhausted body to work, much to the chagrin of Andrew and Emily, he was in no condition to notice a dark figure in his workshop. And that figure, with relative ease, struck him with a savage force.

Aesop roused from the cold asphalt, awoken by the sounds of shrill, harsh, creaking metallic tones, a horrible screeching, and a bitter wailing. He gasped for air in terrible agony, as his head throbbed as if someone was still pounding on his skull. He wriggled, only for him to realise he had been bound tightly, and the ropes scrapped roughly on his skin. When he turned his eye to the only ray of light which illuminated to room from a small hole within the stone walls, he saw the portrait picture of Joseph Desaulnier.

And god bless him.

It was Joseph Desaulnier, but it resembled nothing of the extraordinary personal beauty he had remembered; nothing ivory, rose, or milk. It was loathsome, his black eyes were now vacant and judgmental, and whatever shown of his skin was ridden with some form of horrible disease. He could identify the various blisters and pustules, the ulcerous wounds making the man look more like a martyr being stoned from the inside out. A black fissure ran across his face, his hand and on his lips, a cynical smile. Nothing malicious; just the suffering and desolation of a man recognising that his creator had abandoned him.

Aesop’s heart chilled when he suddenly heard approaching footsteps. He knew the gait. More than ever, he knew the countenance of that face.

* * *

It was a cold morning as autumn came, and a thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses where they passed. The windows looked loomed like dark shapeless blurs, and the chill prickled their skin despite their thick garments. Eli looked especially worn, his lips having a slight purplish tint. They had finally reached Borough market and Naib paid the fare when they arrived at their specified address, a hotel.

“You should rest.” Said Naib. He knew that the cold would make any lingering wounds ache. His elbow was numbed, and more than often he would have to search for a more comfortable resting position. For Eli, who had heavy wounds, the toll was heavier.

“No.” Eli replied, as he pulled out a cigar. “I am rather uneasy and lying on my bed would only consist of restless nights.”

Naib was silent, as he did not deny an ominous warning that was gnawing at the back of his mind.

They went and waited for about twenty minutes, found breakfast on their table, which consisted of dried bread, a chunk of butter, and hot soup. Eli fed a good portion of his bread to Rose Brooks, while Naib ate quickly.

“Here you go, sir.” Cried the hotel waiter, opening the door to their sitting room, and ushering the visitor. Rose Brooks fluttered to the window ledge; her gaze fixated on the stranger.

“Good morning, sir.” Greeted Eli politely.

“Good morning.” Greeted Naib as well.

The man who entered cut a strange and impressive figure. His slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of a decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined craggy features and his strict posture when standing straight showed that he possessed an unusual strength in character.

“Do take a sit.” Said Eli hurriedly, as Naib observed him.

“You had my note, I presume. Lady Nightingale told me you are experts in your field.” Said the man with despair in his weary eyes.

“What can we do for you, good sir? I am preferred to be known by Recluse, and my companion here is Reason.” Eli gestured to Naib, who nodded briskly.

“A Gurkha and a blind man.” The man then narrowed his eyes. “Is it true that the naysaying of Gurkhas is actually not the nonsense of a madman? I am intrigued, but I shall put my trust on Lady Nightingale’s words.”

“Yes.” Naib replied defiantly, answering his look rather than his words.

The old man filled his pipe to the brim as he spoke. “I shall get down to business quickly. I am a great traveller. I love France, the country of love and art. At one point, I had purchased a portrait art, about the half the size of a canvas. It is no ordinary portrait art, you see, for it was the product of an old camera and on it, was the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Have you heard of ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?”

He paused for a moment but continued with a rapid haste before anyone could answer, as if he reckoned no one knew about Dorian Gray.

“Dorian Gray!” He exclaimed. “The beautiful man, yes, that was him indeed. There was no colour on the picture, no oils nor paint, but when I look at it, I saw the colours of it all. The colours of his life. I am sure this is Dorian Gray in the real, in a photograph. Of course, poor Mister Wilde would never come to know such an art do exist!”

He then dramatically threw his hands onto his face. “Imagine my horror when it was missing from my collection room a few days ago. You must find it, you must! I must show the world the beauty of this French man.”

“Might you have any lead?” Naib asked.

“Three days ago, there was a man I called over for funeral services over my late sister.” Said the old man gravely. “His name is Aesop Carl, and I noticed the way his eye twinkled when he saw that portrait in my collection room.”

There was a long silence in the room, broken by the heavy breathing. Eli’s hands hovered above the table to grab his teacup, and Naib thankfully had looked away, his eyes probably had given away his astonishment. It was then Eli heard the rattling of the china on the table, when he realised that the old man was standing up.

“I have to rush to my next appointment soon.” Said the man.

“Of course.” Eli replied, feeling the roof of his mouth so dry. “Might we contact you for a visit in your residence?”

“You may.” Said the older man as he handed over a slip. “I do not live too far from here.”

When he had left, the room was silent once more, only with the persistent tapping of Naib’s fingers as he sat with his back hunched, in perplexation. He took a puff from his pipe. “Well, should we contact Aesop?”

“No one answered the phone on the other end.” Said Eli despondently, who had been on the line. Rose Brooks chirruped a little, and Eli raised his head up.

“I believe we might get some additional help.” Said Eli. Before Naib could questioned, the door opened so quietly, he had not even registered the hinges squeaking, and there stood the man that smelt of cypress trees.

“Good morning.” Said Jack.

Naib smiled; his worries seemed to lessen a little. 

“If you do not mind me, might I bring another acquaintance that would aid your case?” Said Jack sounding a slight begrudging, as he moved away to reveal a man. He was neatly shaven, as neat as Eli, his hair combed, coiffed and powdered. It was a deep white, and Naib was not sure if that man had a wig on. He had the outfit of the old French aristocrats, in which he was fitted with a silk shirt, a yellow jabot and ruffles at the cuffs, frock coat and trousers of blue velvet. His cheeks and lips were a pale crimson, and his face a tad dabbed with makeup. He wore a long silver rapier by his hip as how Jack wore his claw, and Naib tried not to focus on it too much. He almost seemed like the king of fairies from his demeanor.

“My deepest apologies for such a crass introduction. My name is Joseph Desaulnier. You may also address me as ‘The Photographer’.” Said the dream-like man with sapphire eyes, and upon closer inspection, Naib realised that his lashes were a pure snow white. His voice sounded like spring. “I came for my own reasons, but fret not. I bear you no ill will.”

“The Manor Owner has his roots throughout London, it is not just the detective agency. Sometimes the elites, they do need ‘Cleaners’.” Jack had once briskly explained. Naib assumed that Joseph might be one of those ‘cleaners’ like Jack was.

“We were asked to assist for this case.” Said Jack as he turned rigidly to Eli. “Due to the extent of your current condition which I caused; I usually forget people not of war are rather fragile.”

Eli sheepishly shrunk away as Naib coughed.

“Hence, we will trail you in the shadows.” Said Jack.

“Sounds great.” Naib grinned mischievously. 

They headed to the man’s residence during the noon. The owner was not there, and the servants greeted them instead before fully retreating to their chambers. It was apparent that Lady Nightingale had requested his full assistance and compliance if he ever wished to recover that portrait. The floor was a cheap parquet despite the grandeur the man had presented earlier. The rugs were simple, and the furniture were not of authentic antiquity. Naib moved smoothly along the floorboards, along with Jack and Joseph behind, who had managed to enter unnoticed.

Naib knew Jack was trained in the arts of stealth from war. But Joseph wore heeled shoes and such complex clothing in which the most minimal of contact would make a sound. Yet, that man was like a ghost. His flamboyant outfit and slight humming caught no eye nor ear.

Eli had the most trouble, in which every tiptoe would cause the floorboards beneath him to creak in protest. He stumbled over the cluttered areas a few times, causing his cheeks to flush a deep red in embarrassment.

“How about you go have some tea?” Suggested Naib, who was concerned over Eli hurting himself more. The servants had laid the table with food. “We can investigate the house. I will let you know the details.”

Eli felt the claws of Rose Brooks digging into his shoulders, as he fought with emotion, before allowing himself to be helped up to an armchair. “I am sorry for troubling you.” Said Eli, who carried a hollow smile.

“No worries.” Said Naib, squeezing his arm in reassurance, before heading to the lower windows. Joseph loitered about the hallway near Eli, as Jack naturally opted to follow him.

He walked swiftly round from one to another, pausing only at the large one which revealed the bustling of the city. This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill with his monocle, which functioned as a powerful magnifying lens. There were no marks of intrusion, and Naib declared he would head upstairs.

“It is always reassuring to see you at work.” Said Jack in a deep voice. “Even in the war, you scurried about like a little rabbit. It is all part of what makes you so attractive...so enticing.”

Naib clicked his tongue. “I did not expect for us to work together so quickly.”

“Indeed.” Said Jack. He lifted a hand below his mask, as if he was stroking his chin in contemplation. “Are you not happy?”

“I am.” Said Naib, before holding his tongue. Then, he pushed his finger against the mask. “Work first, however. Personal feelings later.”

“Will I get another kiss?” Jack asked, hands in the air as if in surrendering.

“Depends on it.” Said Naib, teasingly. He then thought he heard a flutter and saw traces of brown feathers by the window. He did stick his head out for a moment, wondering if Rose Brooks was there. 

Naib then headed to the collection room; it was a plainly furnished little chamber with no windows. There was no furniture of any sort, just art pieces which were hung on the wall and protected by purple silk cloths. There was a nice rack, and suitcases were strewn everywhere.

Naib stepped two steps back and looked hard at the lock, which was undamaged in anyway.

“Anything?” Jack asked.

“Nothing.” Said Naib, furrowing his brows. “There were no signs of intrusions in his house, but he claimed it was stolen from his collection room. I would think there is a trapdoor beneath the rugs, but the floorboards are tight! The room is as empty as we see it, save for the art pieces.”

It was then there was a rap, and the figure at the door came in. It was a man, rather above the middle height, slim and his skin of a deathly paleness. The lowered half of his face was obscured by the mask. He resembled the physical structure of Aesop in every way, and Naib thought he might be just seeing the man’s twin. The only difference was his obsidian eyes, which was darker than any eyes Naib knew and that he looked more dead than alive. 

“Who are you?” Naib snapped, having not heard that man at all. Jack had flinched slightly in surprised, but he reigned in his bloodlust to attack the stranger and he stood in front of Naib.

“Aesop Carl.” Said the ghastly-looking man. “The Embalmer of Old Kent Road.”

Those eyes were of the soulless and the damned, Naib affirmed. 


	13. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier [III]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thank you for the support! Please take care as per the usual. I will be busy now as I am starting classes, and I am afraid I may not be as frequent on the updates. Hence, I might take a week instead of every two-four days! I usually write my chapters beforehand, that is why I am able to post my stories quick, but this time I am quite barren on my end. Even so, I'll do my best not to keep you all on cliffhangers!

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl [III]**

“Pray tell, why do I have to follow you?” Luca asked for the umpteenth time, a mad toothy grin etched upon his features. But he was neat and shaven, and other than the familiarity of the smile, he was nigh recognizable with a huge fedora and a trench coat with a collar so high that it had covered his chin. “I thought only if hell froze over and pigs started flying would you dare step foot on the third floor to request for my aid! I didn't think it would be on the exact next day after you claimed that you wanted to kill me!” 

“Shut it, you rat!” Norton snapped irritably, adjusting his deerstalker to hide his scowl from passer-bys. “You actually expect Emma to follow up on this case? She’s a girl and can’t do anything besides running fast and destroying things.”

“You could have done it alone.” Said Luca, who was quite uncomfortable with his new wear as it scratched on his bandages and numerous old wounds. “You are a very lonely man, Norton, to have an ex-convict whom you dearly wished to be put in a coffin, as your detective partner.”

Norton swerved about and seized Luca by his collar. Luca released a disgruntled choke as Norton hissed venomously onto his face. “One more word.”

“And? And?” Luca taunted, ignoring the distasteful looks that were casted their way. “Norton, you don’t dare to hurt others. You care, and you deigned to admit it. Emma is a young lady, and she is not suited for the insanity that we men engage ourselves. Aesop is missing, and the next thing I know, I am being led by the collar to search for your friend.”

“Aesop- Aesop is not my friend!” Norton stuttered and his face flushed a deep red.

“Right, yes. I am totally convinced, so converted by the love of whatever religion.” Luca chuckled lazily before gesturing to the door on his right. “It wouldn’t be nice to keep a pretty lady waiting, you know.”

“What?” Norton then realised they were by Emily Dyer’s clinic, and Emily Dyer was by the door. The clinic had been closed for the day, where a large sign remained slated by the glass. Poor lady! She must had cried for the entire night. Her hazel eyes, red-rimmed, were shiny from the remnants of tears and her handkerchief which she used to staunch her sniffles, looked extremely wet. 

She must also had stood for an undetermined amount of time outside the clinic, from the purplish tint on her red lips, which cracked and bled when they parted, and her cheeks flushed. Embarrassed, Norton acknowledged her presence with a stiff nod as she invited them in. 

“Mister Campbell!” She cried of hope, abandoning her previous reserve the moment the door swung close. “Thank you! Thank you for coming!” The woman’s intuition perhaps, she noted the other man in the room and knew of him to be Luca Balsa.

Luca laughed heartily upon her acknowledgement and merrily toured around the clinic.

“You must listen. I am so aggrieved that I missed two phone calls earlier. I hope they are not important.” Emily begun, her voice a little hoarse. “Last night, I have yet to make my way home, and Andrew- I mean Mister Kress, was away for his usual nightly duties. Mister Carl was working in his office, and then I heard a terribly loud crash, the sounds of glasses and metal instruments. Now, Mister Carl is a very meticulous man and he would never make a single squeak in the entire five years I knew him. I was curious and I headed down to investigate the sounds, but his workroom door was bolted shut as it always had been. It was locked.”

“I see.” Said Norton, who scribbled in his notebook. 

Emily continued, “I knocked on the door, and called out for him, but Mister Carl did not answer. He always answered whenever I called for him, and he would send some words for me when I am ready to head my way home. I waited for about twenty minutes, and I knocked on the door. Again, there was no reply. Anxious, I took the spare keys from the locker. I had strict instructions to never enter his workroom for it was no place for a woman, but I did and-”

“That is when you found the note and the pool of blood.” Said Norton.

“Yes.” Emily affirmed.

“What time was it?” Norton asked.

“It was close to nine when I opened the lock.” Said Emily.

“Right, Emily.” Said Norton, closing his little book. “You be good and have some tea. I’ll have a look in that man’s little humble abode.”

Norton left his chair and headed to the cellar where Luca was examining the lock intently. He gazed over his shoulder with a frown. “What have you there?” He asked with a tone of indignation.

“The lovely lady was right.” Luca murmured. “There are no evidences of a break-in. The lock is perfect and smooth, and only has ever been opened by a key.”

“Is there a back-door in the cellar?” Norton called to Emily.

“Yes, it is where Mister Carl takes his client’s requests, the bodies, but it is only locked except on Mondays.” Emily replied. “And yester-night was Wednesday.”

“Where are the keys to that?” Norton asked.

“No keys.” Said Emily, as she walked to where they were. “It is a strange mechanism where he presses a set of strange buttons and doors would open. Here, Mister Campbell, I have the note.”

“A pin-pad. Latest technology of security, highly unknown to the public.” Said Luca as Norton grabbed the crumpled note from her with great eagerness and smooth it out on the clinic’s counter. The paper was coarse and stained, with terrible handwriting as if it were scratched over by a fountain pen. It was nearly impossible to read, but the content seemed to be something of a threat.

“Beware… for I will come in the dead of the night, and unlike our master which you have… you will know the true pain of living.” Norton read aloud, squinting his eyes at every word. “Whoever wrote this has bad taste in poetry. Is this a death threat of some sorts for Aesop?”

“That is not the point.” Said Luca, who snatched the note from the counter. “Aye, it should be obvious that this letter should be addressed to this Mister Carl and this man must be an embalmer too!”

“How’d you know?” Demanded Norton.

Luca explained, “The paper stinks of formaldehyde, a chemical found in embalming solutions. Next, it is stained, most likely dye, and dye is mainly used for embalming procedures. He probably wrote this and slipped it at the backdoor. It is dirty at the back, with the dirt found on gravel. This friend of yours probably crunched this note in anger-”

“How would you know that?” Norton interrupted.

“Puh-lease.” Luca replied, sounding annoyed. “Look at the dirt stains. It is all over the paper. Like someone had crunched it. Why would the writer himself crunch the paper and throw it at the door anyway? I believe this friend of yours might have a relation to this man.”

Luca then jumped on his feet, much like a rat and scurried downstairs.

“Hurry!” He cried. “Come tell me where the back-door is, Miss Dyer!”

Emily and Norton hurried behind the man, as they quickly manoeuvred around the cadavers and the solutions. There Norton saw, crusted dried blood splattered on the floor, some small spots were found on the metal table. Instruments which Aesop used where scattered on the round, along with glass shards from various embalming solutions.

“Is there a possibility where the note was stained by the solutions?” Norton asked. “Where had you found the note, Emily?”

“Underneath the metal table on the left, Mister Campbell.” Emily replied, looking extremely uncomfortable and she seemed ready to break into tears again. “I am positive it has no contact of any sorts with the solution, and I am careful; I picked it up with gloved hands, as my hands are now and made no direct contact with it.”

“Right! I think he does know Aesop!” Exclaimed Luca who pointed at the pin-pad. “Smells of formaldehyde. You said Aesop is meticulous. He wears gloves all the time.” 

Norton made a face and snapped. “Why do you sound like you know him?”

“Yes.” Said Emily, looking quite surprised.

“Yes, Norton. Pretend like I do not see the rows of gloves by the cellar staircase, and the number of gloves in the clinic. Yes, embalmers love handling bodies with their bare hands.” Luca snickered sarcastically.

“Look. We are surrounded by dead bodies. I doubt one more would make a difference in this place.” Said Norton, managing a tight smile. He then cleared his throat when he saw Emily darting her eyes back and forth from them. “I get it. Aesop changes his gloves all the time. It is impossible for the smell to last long on the gloves since he washes them every day and has like twenty extra pairs. That man, however, was the one who pressed the buttons to enter to this area.” 

“Almost!” Luca clapped his hands with glee. “Well there now, this pin-pad needs a pass-code. Well, I made it so of course I know it. There is a sequence to how you key the buttons before the doors would open. Only the person who set the pass-code would know the sequence! Therefore, it is of the greatest security!”

“But he knew!” Said Norton. “And the mechanisms are undamaged in anyway, so he did enter from the back-door. Seriously, Balsa. As much as I wish to punch you right-away, I cannot deny your brilliance.”

“Dearest Norton, how did you think I ran away from London’s prison? The so-called greatest prison in the entirety of England.” Said Luca with a wry smile. He then turned to Emily. “I trust your lips are sealed on this matter as per the usual?”

“From the very beginning.” Said Emily with a slight bow. “This not an affair for the women to interfere. I only pray you can find Mister Carl.”

“We need contact Naib and Eli as soon as possible.” Said Norton with great haste. “Now, let me hail a carriage to Borough’s Market.”

* * *

The ghastly man stood still, and they remained in silence for a short moment, before Naib spoke up. “What sort of jest is this? I am sure you do not reside in this house. You are uninvited.”

“Jest?” Echoed the other who named himself Aesop. His voice was a deep monotone, the kind that droned on in a broken recorder despite his words which expressed his annoyance. “How insolent. I am the Embalmer of Old Kent Road, and pardon me, for I just happen to find myself here.”

“There is another embalmer, who bears the same name and same title as you.” Said Naib cautiously. The murderous glare of that man was piercing; so piercing like glass fragments that sliced deeply within Naib. But Naib had been worn through war, and he could still look that man in the eye without faltering.

“Impossible.” Said the other coldly. “There is only me.”

“He almost looks like he came alive from a photograph.” Jack commented in a low voice. “There is nothing about him that resembled any living colour, no odour like any living being and I feel not a single heartbeat in his steps.”

He strolled towards them, as if he had no human weight. Beneath his shoes, the floorboards made not a single squeak nor a sign of compression. Behind him, trailed luminescent footprints, and Naib knew that man was nothing of this earth. Jack struck him with his bladed claws the moment he came too close, but that man somehow reappeared back to the position he had been in.

From the ghost, Naib heard an incoherent muttered exclamation and saw his face, which seemed more cadaverous than ever. His eyes gleamed maliciously, and it was filled with contempt. At the back of his mind, Naib thought he heard the cry of Rose Brooks, but there was no window by this little room.

“Who are all of you to deny me!” He screamed madly, in which his throat quickly met the hot silver blade belonging to Joseph Desaulnier. Instantly, he was decapitated. He faded into shimmering ashes, and Joseph stood by the door, rapier in hand and his expression unreadable.

"A ghost." Said Joseph, and Naib found no words at what he had witnessed. He knew that Jack had hinted several times about the supernatural elements in his work. However, he had not expected to experience them so soon. 

Jack stared at Joseph, everything on his face concealed behind a mask. They remained in silence, before Joseph finally decided to break the tension.

“What is that, Mister Reason?” Joseph asked with a small smile, gesturing to something behind him. “It is strange for an art to be framed with no picture.”

The silk cloth had slipped from one of the art portraits, and there, Naib saw a blank paper encased in a beautiful gold frame.

“A frame.” Said Naib with a slight stutter. He scrutinized the details as his mind darted to and fro from the recent events to the situation at hand. “It does not look as if it was manufactured here. The entire frame has carvings of flowers, flowers from France. The paper-” Naib paused, trying to analyse the foreign material.

“It is an old photograph paper.” Joseph helpfully offered as his beautiful sapphire eyes narrowed to haunting half-crescents. “The kind of material seen in photography.”

Naib then pulled away every cloth that was obscuring his view of the various artworks in the room. With his keen observation skills, he knew that none of the canvases resembled grainy texture of the blank portrait.

“It wasn’t stolen.” Naib felt a lump gathering in his throat. “The picture disappeared.”

Jack made a low hum at the revelation. He sounded strangely hostile towards Joseph as he spoke. “Now, Joseph. Where did the ghost come from though?”

“I wonder.” Joseph laughed daintily in reply. “Do not mind my sword to his neck. I was sure you might be in danger, hence I had decided to attack.”

Jack snorted and then strode out from the room. “Continue your investigation, darling. I will be ensuring if everything is in place.”

When Jack left, Naib resumed his to his investigations and thoughts, trying to figure about that Aesop Carl. He thought to visit Old Kent Road if Eli was still unable to contact him. It was about fifteen minutes when he realised that Joseph was still at the doorway where the ghost had stood.

“Is Eli alright?” Naib asked, feeling quite uncomfortable with the growing silence that seemed gnawed within his chest. “You did not see any strange apparitions like that man down-stairs, did you?”

Now Joseph set a hard face, and a baleful light filled his eyes. He moved at an inhumane speed and slammed Naib against the blank portrait. Naib felt his heart in his mouth at the sudden change in Joseph's demeanor, and he struggled fruitlessly against the monstrous hold. Joseph’s grip was iron, and he wore a chilling but constipated smile.

“The Seer will always be fine, as long as he bounds to Their Oath.” Said Joseph hurriedly. “Now you are an ex-mercenary, are you not? Look for Aesop Carl in the photograph world; he cannot last any longer in there. Please.”

“What?” Naib gasped.

“This is the moment he finally let down his guard.” Said Joseph with a hushed whisper. Naib felt a strange pull from behind, as if there was a film wobbling behind him and his head raced with questions, unable to understand what the other was trying to express.

Joseph added. However, this time, he wore an indiscernible expression this time and his tone was melancholic. “I did not think that my brother is keeping him from me. I did not think that he even lived. But, I believe now. I am suddenly unable to enter the photograph world, my domain, and yet, I see an image of myself every now and then. Do not dwell on the memories in that world, you have the strength and speed to pull Aesop Carl out. You must pull him lest he will die.” 

“I- wait- I do not get anything.” Exclaimed Naib.

“You have two hours. Time does not move in the photograph world.” Joseph rambled, not listening to the other’s questions as he shoved a pocket watch into Naib’s hand. “But anything that belongs to me does. Use my pocket watch to keep track of time. Once again, you have two hours. Find Aesop Carl, the one that you know, and pull him out of there. It is risky, but Lady Nightingale told me to trust you.”

“I apologise for the sudden turn of events, but you will come to understand.” Joseph continued, as Naib felt his vision fading into black, as if small embers burnt the sides of what he was seeing. When felt he was starting to fall, he thought he saw Rose Brooks and her single eye gleaming. 


	14. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier [IV]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was late because I was quite unsatisfied with the chapter, because I wanted to portray Claude in a manner where he was ghost-like-ish, unable to express himself like the normal and that Joseph is barely able to contain himself. I hope I was able to express that in subtle tones. Until then, thank you for the wondrous support and take care!  
> Also, I thought that I might release their some pictures of their outfits on twitter, as I based descriptions on them and they do change their outfits in some chapters. I will provide the link soon (hopefully)!   
> Did you all see the video on Reason!Naib dancing? He looks absolutely awesome.

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl [VI]**

He learnt.

He learnt many things from Aesop Carl, the embalmer of Old Kent Road who picked him up from the decrepit streets of a dying town in London. He was a young uneducated lad and gladly let himself be instructed in this specific trade. And he was nothing, but an eager pupil, a good student and the best apprentice. But a day came when Aesop Carl was old and waned, where his locks started to whiten like the likes of snowflakes, and his skin dried like an old bark. He saw his master with his misty dimmed eyes gazing malevolently at the mirror, as if he were looking at pestilence. And during those days, he had seen Aesop Carl, his mentor shuddering at the coffins, at the open graves and at River Thames.

“Life is the greatest good and death is the worst evil!” He had exclaimed, clinging to life at a stranger’s mercy, for he was no believer of any god. “I exist to preserve things, for life is and breath is still the highest!”

And he, the boy who was never named; the boy picked up from an abandoned town; the boy who lived his life among corpses, scorned his mentor for the very first time. His mentor, who had not inherited the same love towards death as he should in his profession.

Fear and evil were of the dark! Aesop Carl had said. He became paranoid, temperamental and fearful. He would no longer work in darkness, and his nerves gave him no rest. He would beat his apprentice with a belt on when he was drunk. He refused to stay sober and steadily lost the art of embalming.

One day, the grim reaper finally met him, and he was found stretched dead in front of the shop he once owned.

Then, the boy with no name quietly embalmed him with yellow roses, and sent him to the open graves of London. He took his name, and from then on, was called Aesop Carl.

* * *

Instantly, Naib snapped his eyes open and gasped for air like a fish out of water for nothing poured into his lungs, but the air around him was stale and instead of providing him fresh relief, it caused him to hack so violently that he remained on the ground for a long moment. He managed to crawl to his knees, but he hung his heavy head low. It throbbed as if somebody was using a sledgehammer to pound into the back of his skull.

He thought he might witness a lost memory in the process of coming here, as everything that had transpired seemed almost lucid in nature, but he could not quite put his finger to recall what it was. When he eventually stood up on wobbling legs, like the legs of a new-born fawn aware of the dangers surrounding it, he found himself in an entirely different world.

He was in London. Yet, he was sure it was not London.

A world of monochrome.

These houses of brick, which was of uniformed colour; the colour of a damp olive green, became a greyish tint; they were all the same kinds of buildings, that was to say those which were two or three windows wide and the same kinds of nameplates were upon their doors, were all in varying shades of grey. The sky resembled the colour of coal smoke, and the roads which he stood on resembled thick dust.

There was no sound, so smell, no movement, and only Naib Subedar. And Naib found it almost suffocating to be alone. His ears buzzed in pain from the unwelcomed silence, and every step he took echoed ten-fold. There, he heard an encouraging hoot and saw a familiar turquoise gleam by a black lamppost a few feet ahead of him.

“Rose Brooks!” He cried in immense relief, and realised he let out another breath which he did not know he was holding.

The owl chirruped gently and settled comfortably on his shoulders, to which Naib had jumped a little for he was not entirely fond of the owl. However, she was his only companion now and that he figured, was probably another of Eli’s gimmicks to aid him to get through this strange occurrence.

“Brooks.” Naib mumbled, calling her name for the very first time. The owl was excitably and leaned onto his face, her warm feathers nuzzling his skin and Naib cannot help but relish the living warmth.

Right, he thought. He needed to think.

“This, Joseph said, it is a photograph world, as curious as it sounds.” Said Naib as he scratched Rose Brooks on her head; she crooned as he hit a particularly good spot. “He said he sees an image of himself every now and then. He had also cautioned me not to not dwell on the memories of this world. Not to mention-”

Naib then lifted his hand which had the pocket watch, that one which Joseph had given him earlier, and observed it. It was working as like any pocket watch. Naib had taken a glimpse of his own and saw that his was not functioning in any way. 

“He said to use this to keep track of time. We have two hours, so it seems.” Continued Naib, watching the minute hands ticked by.

Naib’s face then became flushed and darkened, and his brows transformed into two hard line as he spoke in a hushed manner. “We have to find Aesop. From the way Joseph sounded, Aesop must be in terrible trouble!”

Naib gazed at the owl who only cocked her head to her side in reply.

“I was not expecting a reply anyway.” Naib chuckled morosely, before sighing audibly in clear frustration. “First things first, how am I to find Aesop. Everything looks the same and familiar. It actually looks like Old Kent Road.”

Then, Rose Brooks spread her wings white and revealing plumes of very intonations of brown, before fluttering to a certain shop and released a loud shrill. She swung on the old sign which creaked in protest, for its chains were rusted and on one side, it was completely detached. Moss grew all over it, and the words on it were ancient and faded. Yet, Naib who strode cautiously towards it could make it out.

 **Old Kent Road Embalming Services** on it was written. 

It might had been under a different but it was Aesop’s shop, that he knew. The entrance to the door was bolted with chains. He had nothing to knock it down; his cane was no longer with him and all he had were the elbow pads Luca had given to him earlier. He tightened his grip on them as he folded his arms, not deigning to step another foot further.

_“Do not dwell on the memories of this world.”_

Joseph’s words echoed at the back of his mind as he saw Rose Brooks starting to beat herself against the door like a mad bird. Alarmed, he sprung to his feet in haste and grabbed the owl. In the process, as Naib was still very unaccustomed to his Oxford shoes, he tripped on a protruding cobblestone near the steps and slammed against the door with a great force.

The door gave way as if it had never been there and Naib collapsed onto the ground instead, the familiar smell of parquet wood permeated his nostrils. He was expecting to see a familiar counter and the stairs which led to Aesop's cellar. However, in his sight, was a hallway filled with many breath-taking art pieces of various colours. His steely eyes glimmered as he observed the place with apprehension.

A low moan broke the silence, and Naib inferred that it came from somewhere near him. There were many doors that were on both sides of the enormous hallway and he strained his ears to listen intently. His face bent downwards, his shoulders bowed, and his lips compressed to a thin line; Naib almost seemed like an animal ready for a hunt. Despite donning in the bulky wear of the Englishman, he had looked absolutely charming, the litheness of a wild cat danced within his veins as he slid across the hall gracefully.

When he chanced upon a particular door, the pupil on Rose Brooks’ single eye dilated and her feathers were compressed. Once again, Naib heard the moans which issued behind the door, and he listened as they sunk into a dull mumble. With not much thought, he kicked the door open.

In the room, the only light came from a small fissure within the walls where innumerable minute specks were seen floating in the sun rays. Naib saw the vague loom of a man laid in a dark corner. Upon closer inspection, he saw his eyes closed, his mouth half-opened and that it was Aesop Carl. Naib hoisted him into the better lit hallway without hesitation, and almost doubled over in disbelief at the sight of the affable gentleman he had spoken to days ago.

Aesop Carl must had suffered a lot. He was blue-lipped and delirious, not knowing his rescuer and mumbling incoherently. His hands and feet were securely strapped together by a coarse rope, and on his head, the evidence of a violent blow. It was purple, swollen and bloody. The blood had streaked to the side of his face, crusting along his temple and rendering a side of his face almost unrecognizable. Naib knew that the man was very ill, shuddering as perspiration dabbed his neck and he was hot to the touch.

“Shit.” Naib swore for the first time in London, realising that it was almost impossible to unfasten the man’s ropes without anything sharp. Any further movement would cause another painful blister on Aesop’s wrist. “What the hell happened?”

It was then Rose Brooks hooted loudly, and Aesop suddenly sat up with the fervor of an alert man. “Run! He… is here.” It almost hurt to hear Aesop speak, as the words came out like throttling splutter rather than human voice.

“Who…?” Naib asked, and quickly swerved around as the hairs on his arm stood erect.

There, he thought he saw Joseph Desaulnier; except that the French man looked to have risen half-repaired from the grave. He looked absolutely horrid and diseased; his coal eyes like a burnt-out tinder and his lips was pursed in a sorrowful frown.

He turned his neck rigidly as if it was hard to move and his gaze was unfixed. It was then upon casting his sight on Naib, his eyes flared ferociously, and he looked something akin to a great evil.

“Joseph?” Naib gasped, trying to find the voice that was dying in his throat. Rose Brooks’ panicked squawks seemed to echo louder every passing second as Naib stood shaken.

A blade then swung unforgiving near his neck, and Naib was only able to dodge it by pure instinct. Once more, the figure lashed the blade venomously in Naib’s direction. The ex-mercenary used his elbow pads on the walls to create some form of distance, before the metal could skewer him clean.

“Stop it!” Aesop shouted witnessing the events through his hazy sight, but only collapsing to the floor when he tried to stand. “Naib…is not…my enemy! He is not that man!”

Naib clashed among the portraits, as he tried to avoid the hits. The Joseph-like figure seemed to be able to appear near him at any given time, and Naib had barely missed a few slashes. Some strikes had already cut deep enough through his clothes to graze his skin. He seemed almost angered that he had not landed a precise strike on Naib, and subsequently made a thundering cry. In a split second, his attacks turned violent with increased strength, the blade tearing the wallpaper to shreds and landing sharp jagged edges on the wooden furniture.

Naib, with his thoughts only focused on the idea of escape, accidentally stumbled clumsily over a broken wooden frame due to his shoes. He was prepared to be stabbed in his shoulder, when suddenly Rose Brooks released a cry and heard the clash of blades instead. Panting, Naib rolled over to look up. 

“Claude...” It was the lull of a familiar voice and it was full of yearn.

And there stood Joseph Desaulnier, blade parrying against the other. 

“Two Josephs?” Naib gawked, flabbergasted. He tried correcting himself as he thought. "No-"

“Claude, put down your blade please.” Said Joseph in a genteel and pleading voice. The other, who for an instant, had seemed appalled and lowered his handle a little. He made a rumble at the back of his throat, like an angered wolf. Little by little in Naib’s stirring confusion, the detective noted a sad tone. Claude's eyes flared open spirit-like and wide, and for second as some images flashed before his eyes, and Naib thought he was in an entirely different country.

“Claude, my brother.” Said Joseph again, and Claude finally put his blade down.

He then suddenly appeared beside Aesop, leaving a trail of luminous footprints of where had stood. His dry ghostly hands hovered over the trembling man, and no matter how much he tried to caress his face, his palms seemed to not touch Aesop’s skin. 

Joseph hurried over, and with a flick of his wrist, severed Aesop's bonds. He picked Aesop up, but Claude did not look happy and scowled at his brother instead. Rose Brooks flew away in fright and had half her body landing unceremoniously on Naib’s head, messing up his neatly tied hair. Joseph nodded at Claude, who then paced about irritably. 

“An intruder.” Said Joseph, who had understood his twin wholeheartedly. “We share the same domain, so I figured it out as much.”

“I do not understand.” Said Naib simply as he was exhausted. “If we are working together, I would prefer to be not kept in secret.”

Joseph bit his lip for a second. “I have an ability called the photograph domain.” Begun he eventually. “It is a bit complicated for a mere human to believe in… but some of us are born with special abilities that developed after time. Mine in this case, was a domain that I can stop time. It was perhaps the wish of not seeing my little brother…”

He turned to Claude and then looked away; Naib thought that he would see his expressionless features crumple away for a split second.

“Either way, I guess a part of Claude remained in my realm because of the effects of my abilities. Aesop had someone after him and Claude, probably in a desperate attempt to protect him, had utilized my realm. Of course, it was not complete. The killer is still here, and this was why he sealed the realm tightly.” Joseph explained. “He was determined to find the perpetrator, before letting Aesop go.” 

“It makes sense.” Said Naib, recalling the strange man at the doorway. “Shall I guess that it is the man who appeared to attack me and Jack?”

“Most presumably.” Said Joseph. “Claude may not manifest a full replica of my realm, which was why an apparition of the man that he was after appeared in the real world.”

“Why did Claude not free him?” Naib then asked, gesturing at the bits of severed rope.

“It will only work if he feels malevolence towards a certain something.” Said Joseph. “He never felt any malevolence towards Aesop.”

“Either way.” Continued Joseph, seeing Naib looking as if he wanted to raise another inquiry. “Questions must wait. As I said, there are only two hours before this world collapses. The Seer’s owl has led me to you thankfully, and you fought Claude enough to let him lower his guard for me to enter. We need to find the attacker now. Aesop might have to endure a little longer, but at least, his condition will not worsen in here.”

“I am…fine.” Said Aesop, his eyes regained some form of vigor as he struggled to convey his words. “It is better in the light.” 

“He hid you in darkness to protect you.” Said Joseph, as Claude watched them curiously. 

“I know.” Aesop replied quietly. "Could you put me down?"

"No."

Aesop then resumed to being quiet and Naib could only wonder what the other man was thinking.

“Do you not have dominance over this world?” Naib then asked Joseph.

“I do.” Affirmed Joseph. He gave Naib a wry smile. “But do let the elder brother indulge his younger brother a little longer.”

* * *

“Eli! Are you hearing this?” Said Norton exasperatedly, as he jumped to grab Eli’s trench coat without much regard. Luca was helping himself to the variety of food on the table and had set himself to finish a block of blue cheese. Eli tried to pretend to not hear the crunching pretzels in paper bags being shoved into trench coats.

“Yes, I am.” Eli replied, sounding reproachful and fatigued. He smoothed out his collars. “I am always listening to you. Also, Luca, be a dear and try not to take too many delicacies from the table. Please don’t tell me it’s the cupcakes.”

“Lamb chops! I don't get to eat meat anyway.” Cried Luca excitedly. A mask hung below his chin which he used to cover his face as he made his way here. It was presumably one of Aesop's taken from the embalmer's shop. In this case, Luca had termed that he had 'borrowed' it. “Almost guessed it right, dear Eli.”

“You’re listening to him stuffing food into the paper bags!” Said Norton accusingly. He did not bother to correct Luca on his terrible manners, however. "I even paid for the most expensive carriage to get to you as quickly as possible!"

"Emily actually paid for it." Said Luca.

"Shut it!" Norton hissed. 

Forty minutes ago, Eli was slightly relaxed on the armchair. It was Autumn, and he would imagine that among the stick thin brunches, there would leaves bursting with yellow and red, and they would dance with the wind when it was time to fall. He did not, in his wildest imagination, expect Norton to turn up at the door and brought the news of Aesop who went missing. He once again recalled that Norton was insanely good with his social interactions. 

Eli furrowed his eyebrows if only but a little. Hopefully, Joseph would work with haste and both his friends would be safe. 

"Naib has found Aesop." Said Eli slowly. "But he might take a little while."

"Really? Wait, you knew Aesop was missing all this while? Have you found the assailant?" Norton asked hurriedly. "If it is about waiting... is Naib confronting the assailant?" 

“Eli, are your eyes bleeding?” Luca asked, interrupting the man and Norton jumped ungracefully. His chair clattering onto the ground with a loud thud. He scampered to the sinks with a huff.

“Your old injuries again?” He grumbled, as he wet a handkerchief. It was funny how he tried sounding angry and concerned, and how he looked entirely ungraceful doing these things with just one arm. “It seems to bleed a lot nowadays.”

“Old injuries.” Eli managed a smile, his fingers hesitating over the new bandages before proceeding to pull them from his pocket. “They get worse during the colder seasons.”


	15. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier [V]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Aesop! I squeezed out the chapter in time!  
> Thank you for your support and kudos, and love. I will reply to the comments in due time.  
> Happy for Antonio coming out soon! Still fixing up my twitter. Maybe I will post the link with the third mystery-adventure.  
> (I edited this portion, because I reread this like 5 times and felt that Aesop was acting ooc at this point.) I had to research on autism. I am not familiar with how they act, so I apologise for any inaccuracies. Thank you for bearing with me!

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl [V]**

Naib Subedar for distraction stroke his finger against Rose Brooks’ feathers, who seemed to be more cat than owl now, as she gave a low, long hoot like purr in satisfaction. Joseph had offered Aesop water, in which he gingerly placed a bottle to the other's mouth.

“You’re awfully prepared.” Aesop commented dryly and he quickly drank the water.

“Of course.” Said Joseph. He had cleaned the blood of the man’s face and gently wiped away the trails of water droplets that had dribbled down Aesop’s chin. Claude had left to search for the intruder once more, presumably sensing that he was unable to offer more relief for Aesop with his condition.

“I will aid Claude in search.” Joseph added. “Mister Reason will look after you.”

“Mister Reason? Oh, you mean Naib.” Said Aesop as he glanced furtively at the other detective. “Yes, he is quite reliable.”

Naib was looking thoughtful, not exactly thinking, for the current events had transpired far too quickly and beyond any common sense for any man for his mind to catch up. He had hoped that the thoughts would come, though who would have expected to think at this point. He had experienced the similar rush of warfare, and his mind had been blank then.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself.” He heard Aesop, who had spoken upon seeing his dark face. His voice was much clearer, but still rather hoarse. “You are quite new to this anyway, and before you know it, you’re in the frontlines.”

“Thank you.” Said Naib, and he was quite unsure of what to say after. “Are you feeling better?”

“I suppose.” Said Aesop. He seemed to look approvingly at Joseph, whose retreating figure dissipated into a fog. “Thank you, I guess, for coming to me.”

“No worries. Joseph was worried about you after all. I did not know what happened, but it seems to be rather serious.” Naib observed Aesop who started to look exceedingly grave, and Naib knew it had nothing to do with his injuries, but the guilt within a heavy heart. Now that Aesop's mind was clear, the man had seemed to recall some unwanted memory at an unwanted speed.

“You looked as if you have something to say.” Said Naib. He seen these kinds of expressions on the battlefield; those from unwilling young lads carrying guns and making their first kill.

Then, Aesop tightened his lips to a thin line. He then looked away as he kept fiddling with his fingers. “Nothing. I just want to get out of here.”

“Surely we will. Joseph said that this domain would not last long.” Naib spoke as he nervously clasped and unclasped his gloved hands, his elbow feeling strangely sore, perhaps from the earlier confrontation. He found not any more words to comfort the other. Rose Brooks crooned against his nape, but he felt barely a relief from her.

“We will leave soon, dear Aesop.” Said Joseph, appearing as sudden as he left, a strange tarot-like card dancing upon his palms. It was then his posture became a little rigid and he sounded rather stern. “Before that, I might just skewer that man in the throat.”

“No!” Cried Aesop frantically, and both were shocked by his sudden outburst, knowing him as a man of a quiet façade. “You did not say you would kill him.”

“And pray tell, why?” Joseph growled.

Naib only hoped he looked better than he was feeling. His mind wondered to the dreadful memory earlier, the old man called Aesop Carl who barked like a rabid dog, the boy whose features were obscured and the images of yellow roses which were so prominent in every corner of his mind.

“It’s mine business to take. I-” Aesop whispered wearily, and his tone was desolated. His sentences started to break, and it sounded almost like an incomprehensible mumble if Naib did not focus to listen. “I think… I rather…I-”

He then paused for a moment, looking absolutely aggrieved even if he was not looking at either of them. “Just leave me alone.”

Then Claude appeared, bearing his ghostly face, cold as marble. His eyes seemed to darken upon Aesop’s cowering figure, and he gestured them in a direction. Joseph nodded in reply and proceeded to bend over to pick the other up. However, Aesop rejected his advances violently and nearly elbowed him in the face. 

“I said to leave me alone!” He hissed with a heightened voice, and he was trembling terribly as if he was suddenly overwhelmed by something.

“I would assume you know that man from the way you acted.” Naib spoke up firmly and sounding as clear as he could. “But he could harm us now if we did nothing.”

Joseph raised a questioning eyebrow, but Naib shushed him with the gesture of his finger.

Aesop bit his lip, as he glanced back and forth at them.

“Do not kill him.” Emphasised Aesop.

“It will be the jury that handles that.” Said Naib in reply. 

* * *

There was a trail of yellow petals, falling on what seemed to be like a footpath which manifested in front of them. A tall stranger, at least as tall as Aesop, was heading towards them in long silent strides. His cheeks were sallow, and although he had not looked as ghastly as his apparition, he still bore a pale complexion and a murderous glare.

Claude must have attempted a few cuts at him, for his sleeves were shredded, his face bruised and blooded and he had an unsightly limp as he walked. There were several luminous imprints on him, perhaps a tracking mark made by Claude. He seemed to give up on escape, and instead faced them indignantly.

“He would not have been hiding long.” Joseph whispered proudly. “After all, with both me and Claude combing the perimeters, it would have been almost impossible to hide.”

Aesop’s sight fell on the rose petals, and he seemed not to register his surroundings.

“You.” He then spat venomously, and his malicious gaze fell upon Aesop. “You were just lucky, you bastard. You’re a daft and despite it all, lady luck still befell on you. What are the chances? _What are the chances?_ ”

“First, Jerry Carl gets away being a serial killer. He never runs the store. It was Aesop Carl and I. And then, it was just freely given to you? You who only ever lock yourself down in the cellars! You then had to steal his name after Jerry Carl killed him, stole his inheritance and everything he ever own, when you could not even speak to customers; you had to write them!” He mocked with such vile. “Then, you get the protection of some ghost-”

A blade swung on his cheek, and it made a nasty cut, which bled messily down his dirty stubble.

“Mongrel.” Snarled Joseph with deep contempt. “My lovely sunshine is not some ghost. Furthermore, you do not speak of my beloved in such manner. You are the _daft,_ for you made a contract with something otherworldly and we can sense it all.”

The man stood there smiling; but it was not a smile, instead it was an ugly, cynical smirk that laid upon his lips. “You all are defending an accomplice of murder.” He snorted, as if he pitied them.

“Better a wronged murderer than a madman who sold his soul to a forbidden god.” Joseph retorted.

Angered, the man roared as he whipped out a dagger and lunged towards Aesop; in which Joseph effectively parried by the edge of his blade. Naib quickly threw a punch to the side of his face. The man then collapsed to the ground, and Naib kicked his dagger away. It was now as useless as scrap metal.

Naib breathed; it had ended so quickly. 

“Salaud!” He heard Joseph cry out. It sounded more like he was swearing, but he was not too sure of the language the man had spoken.

A black mist then quickly engulfed his sight, in which Claude bore the look of surprise in his face and Joseph looked shell-shocked. Naib thought he heard Aesop screaming his name, his hand stretching outwards towards him and Rose Brooks squawking horrendously.

Naib briefly registered that he must be in deep trouble.

* * *

“Wake up!”

Naib blinked open his eyes and sat up in such a hurried manner that his head hurt, and the world spun. He found himself in an entirely pitch-black space. He turned towards the voice and saw that Aesop was kneeling beside him.

“Aesop?” He mumbled.

“Thank goodness.” Aesop said. “I thought you wouldn’t wake up. It’s bad enough that you got consumed by it, but at least you were able to regain consciousness.”

“You are not Aesop.” Naib observed wryly. “I had my fair share of being a fool today. Let’s start with your manner of speech. It’s nothing like him.”

“I wasn’t trying to fool you.” Said ‘Aesop’ who shook their head at the accusing remark. “My soul just happened to take form of the companion whom you last saw.”

“Anyway, how do I get out of here?” Naib asked.

“You don’t. I mean do you even see an exit? In your case, you just simply wait for it to pass.” Said ‘Aesop’. “You did not make a contract with it after all. You were an accidental victim, so I believe help will come to you quite easily.”

“Who are you?” Naib asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Shall I tell you a story to pass the time instead? It’s a kind of story game that is quite popular among the English women actually.” Said ‘Aesop’ with a small mysterious smile, somewhat dainty and lady-like. They ignored his question. “Someone tells a story and then you contemplate about the character.”

“It sounds more like a therapy session.” Naib commented dryly.

“You are not very funny now, detective.” ‘Aesop’ smiled at him wryly.

“Shall I begin either way?” ‘Aesop’ continued. Naib looked over at them in a searching fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping to listen to their story.

“Go ahead then.” 

“Once, there was a boy who wasn’t very smart, or that he thought he wasn’t very smart. He knew no father and his mother was a poor maid. She died from sclerosis and Jerry Carl came to embalm her, for he was known as a kind man who would do that kind of dirty work for no fee. Jerry Carl then adopted the boy and the boy was educated in the art of embalming as he was deemed no longer fit for school. But what could the poor ever give for a stroke of fortune? Jerry Carl was a serial killer who kills his victims using the guise of embalming, and the boy learnt his every trait.” Said ‘Aesop’. 

“The boy became an accomplice. He manipulated people to their deaths. Death is better off for the poor anyway. If they did not listen, give them some bromide hydrate. If they did not listen, give them some cyanide. And so, the boy chose to abandon his original name, and became one who had no name. One day, he received a letter from an old friend. It was a girl who used to live next door. But on that fateful day they were supposed to meet at the rose garden, she was stabbed 39 times by Jerry Carl. Her bouquet of yellow roses was stained a deep red. Jerry Carl, in defence of his actions, said that she was meant to die one day and that all he did was help her.”

At the last sentence, they gritted their teeth and spoke every word as if they were seethed with rage. There was an abrupt pause, before they continued unnaturally.

“It was a few months later when Jerry Carl received an invitation to London, to start an Embalming shop. So, he took the boy with him. However, one night while retrieving victims, he was severely hurt by someone or something that never was. And then the boy guided him into death. He became Jerry Carl, and Jerry Carl became what he never wanted; someone who died without accepting it. The boy took the letter for himself and claimed that his mission now was to guide lost souls in life and to love death as they had loved life.”

‘Aesop’ concluded with an extraordinary sigh.

Naib swallowed, vaguely distraught by the jarring difference between the memory he had witnessed, and the story ‘Aesop’ told him.

“Why are you telling me this?” Naib asked, his eyebrows furrowing as the suspicion within him piled up.

“Are you concerned about the memory?” Said ‘Aesop’. “It does not belong to your friend. In the first place, there were two people who were not masters of the photograph domain, is it not? As for why I am telling you… I just simply wish to help a stupid friend that could never seem to convey his feelings well enough. Perhaps you might understand more if I tell you his story.”

Naib stood up with alarming alacrity. “So, I must have seen the other’s memory. There were two apprentices of the two embalmers of Old Kent Road.”

He then turned to ‘Aesop’. “You sound as if you know him personally.”

“I did and I watched him ever since I could.” Said them wistfully. “But I am of the passed, and once the body expires, I would go as well.”

Naib held a questioning gaze as he spoke. “If that would be the case, Aesop Carl was not killed by Jerry Carl. From the memory, he looked blue, bloated, and covered with vomit. As if he was poisoned.”

“Jerry Carl did not kill him. He died from alcohol poisoning.” Affirmed ‘Aesop’. “Whatever that man said, are just insane thoughts manifested in his drunken head. He invested in much wine as did his mentor, and his bad habits just served to fuel its evil influence more. I wish he would die quickly and would never bound me to it, intentional or not.”

They sounded almost spiteful and hurt.

Naib then heard many voices, and the noise steadily increased. Noises which he was familiar with. He turned towards ‘Aesop’, who seemed to don on a more feminine figure, albeit her obscured features. Naib widened his eyes, as he felt himself being pulled away for the umpteenth time. 

“You are…!” He cried.

“If only brother would be humbler and smarter, he would have lived the good life.” Said she, as yellow petals scattered about her. Her feet were stained, cut, and crusted with blood, and in her hands, a bouquet of the freshest yellow roses. “But this man is only a slave to that creature and is no longer mine brother. That man remembers me not. But Aesop, my dearest friend, did nothing wrong. He was just poor of understanding. Yet, he is very good, and he remembers me every year.”

* * *

“Are you back?” Said Joseph with a vacuous expression when Naib saw that he was back in the photograph world. “Thank goodness you have a strong mind, if not we would have a harder time pulling you out of that fog.”

“A fog?” Naib echoed; he saw a small mist hovering above the body of that man.

“Aye. It is a kind of effect when the vessel of a forbidden god expires. It pulls in everything, sort of like a black-hole. They often hurt accidental passer-bys.” Joseph explained candidly. “Do be careful next time. You might not have a comrade well-versed with these kinds of situations and you could lose your soul in the process.”

“It sounds entirely…like a novel.” Said Naib.

“Were you not aware of the particularly… not-so-human experiences when you signed up for this detective agency?” Joseph asked curiously.

“I wasn’t expecting things to escalate so quickly.” Naib confessed. He then heard a wheezing chuckle and saw Aesop whose eyes were flooded with emotions of relief.

“I-” Aesop stammered.

“It’s fine.” Naib smiled, and just proceeded to hug his friend.

Aesop remained silent and then spoke up in a raspy voice. “Thank…you.”

Therein for a second, Joseph stared his brother. They glanced at each other for a moment, and Claude took the initiative to walk away. Naib thought he might have heard a sniffling sound. When he saw the ghost turned back once more, he did not think he would witness the tears in his eyes. Aesop then came over to try grasping his hand, but to not much avail. But Claude recognized that, and his cries became softer, like a troubled echo from his breast. He stood there, lowering his head to Aesop’s as if he were an angel floating in a dream, and then gave a final deep, entreating glance to his brother.

Of course, everything had to end somewhere. They were simply delaying the inevitable. 

Joseph understood. With an unreadable expression and no parting words, he snapped his fingers, and a bright light engulfed Naib’s vision. He saw no figure of Claude anymore, and he was back in the room that he was once in, only that he was lying down. A tired hoot from Rose Brooks jolted out from his thoughts and he quickly surveyed the room, only managing to keep sight of Aesop struggling to stand.

“Right.” He murmured to himself. “I’m quite done with the constant flashes and changes with my environment every fragment of a second. I know the battlefield changes all the time, but I never requested for these kinds of changes.”

“Naib.” Aesop then stumbled over when he was muttering his litanies. “Is it over? I apologise for-”

“You did nothing wrong anyway-” Said Naib quickly.

“And what do you know?” Hissed the man suddenly. He had regained his consciousness and he looked no better. The black fog behind him pulsated threateningly and Naib pulled Aesop behind him, which quite an interesting sight, for Aesop was a head taller. 

“We know quite a bit. Your memories, feelings and appearance are all reflected in the photograph world. Or rather, should I put it bluntly- all that whatever makes you human was escaping into the photograph world.” Said Joseph, who brandished his blade. “You god-forsaken human, who are pulsating with such disgusting emotions with no restraint; the photograph world takes and reflects it all- shows it to anyone who steps foot here.”

The man looked absolutely rabid and his bloodshot eyes still fixated on Aesop. He appeared with superhuman speed in front of Naib and was about to lunge a hit when the door was flung open, and something heavy and metallic was smashed onto the assailant’s head. The man collapsed like a rag doll back onto the floor. 

“Hullo Naib, my favorite detective!” A familiar voice greeted. There Luca Balsa stood, holding what seemed like Norton’s magnets. “Is Eli some sort of fortune-teller or something, he always seems to guess things at the right time!”

“Oh my god, Balsa! Did you throw them? Did you seriously just throw my magnets to bash a man’s head?” Norton appeared by the doorway, looking absolutely horrified. “That’s not how they work! And you’re getting your meat juices all over them!”

“It’s just a little dirty.” Said Luca. 

“Little dirty- my foot!” Norton yelled. 

“Luca Balsa?” Naib mouthed his name dumbly. “What are you doing out in the open?”

“Good reflexes there.” Commented Joseph, who seemed oblivious to their banter.

It was then Naib saw the man convulsed violently, gasping for breath. He arose once more, bones cracking in strange positions and violent twists, while Norton fell back in shock and Luca watching in what seemed like morbid awe. Aesop stared on in horror and Joseph _with bored resolution_. He swung himself against the floorboards, as if excited to fury by their gazes. He foamed, he raved, and he swore in incomprehensible sounds, and sounded almost demonic. Anything that was better than this agony! Oh, spare him the agony! Spare him that hypocritical- conceited- disgusted smile! He shrieked in madness.

And Joseph, who bore that exact smile, cut him on the neck down with no hesitation. No blood flowed, black mist dissipated into thin air and the man crumbled into dust.

“You must hate me, Aesop. But that man will soon become demon spawn.” Said Joseph, to the embalmer. Aesop said nothing and lowered his face into his trembling hands.

“Holy- Did that man just-” Norton started swearing in series of phrases. He paced frantically to and fro outside the door. 

“Oh Nortie.” Said Luca, with bemusement instead. “Your embalmer friend was upstairs all along! Same grey uniform by the cellar, injured head- It’s him alright!”

“Balsa! A man just crumbled into dust- Oh my god, is that you, Aesop? Shit.” Norton was already screaming at the top of his lungs as he kept running fingers in his hair. “Alright, give me a moment. I need air. I’m so not paid enough for this.”

Naib just quietly helped Aesop to his feet while Luca ate a spare rib by the doorway.

By coincidence in his line of sight, he saw Joseph Desaulnier by the window, looking over the dull coloured roof-tops of London for a second, before coming over to help them.

“Thank you for letting me help you...despite me acting against your wishes.” Said Joseph to Aesop. “You saw Claude as if he were still alive, and for that he grew attached to you, and came back in whatever corporeal manner he could manage. I guess... I guess it was because I only saw him gone that he never quite came to me.”

Aesop remained silent as he always did, but he leaned onto Joseph’s side and allowed the other to support him out.

Naib then craned his neck a little to look back, and saw the picture restored; the picture of Claude Desaulnier in every bit looking like the man beside Aesop, the king of fairies.


	16. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier [VI]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a more serious tone in nature as from what you may infer, Eli and Aesop were one of the first few recruits from this mysterious Manor Owner. Aesop's story is to pave a way to explore more of the lore. I edited the previous chapter, do take note. Thank you for your support and take care!

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl [VI]**

It was the next morning when Naib disgustedly watched the old man clapped his hands in satisfaction. He complemented on how Naib had delivered the report to him with such haste. Still, it was apparent that the other was not fond of details; he was only concerned that the picture was returned to him in its initial pristine condition and Naib found his patience to be threading thin. He never did like these kinds of Englishmen, much less if they happened to be eccentrics. 

With a cigar in his mouth in his mouth and newspaper in his lap, the old man had been amusing himself for the greater part of the afternoon by pouring his attention on the picture. Claude Desaulnier stood regal, but those life-like eyes seemed to reflect some form of disdain to the other who seemed like a slovenly, lusting old fool. And Naib inadvertently wryly chuckled into his glove.

With that, the old man then finally came to the attention that he had company in the room, and he dismissed them with a derogatory wave. Eli who spoke nary a word since the meeting started, stood up from his chair and left almost brusquely, a contrast to his usual calm demeanor. He did not offer a farewell and he went down the steps, two at a time, almost tirelessly. Even Naib found himself having to jog a little to catch up to the blind man.

“I apologise.” Eli finally breathed when they were outside the house. “I was truly disgusted by his attitude. He might be a client, and I certainly thought he was affable. However, upon the return of the picture, he exhibited such debauched actions. He was caressing the frame as if he were touching a woman, was he not?”

“Yes.” Agreed Naib with displeasure. “It would do if he would treat Claude with some respect. I think Joseph would not be too happy.”

“Claude? Was that his name?” Eli asked.

“Yes, wait- how did you know about that?” Naib observed Rose Brooks, who was now back on her master’s shoulder. “I want to ask about that owl-”

“Great timing.” Norton piped up. He was at the gates, and behind him, a coach came over. Horses neighing. “We got a free ride home.” 

“Well, I supposed we could leave this residence.” Said Eli with a smile hurriedly. “Norton has retrieved reports from Martha once more and the Commissioner Behamfil is very pleased with you it seems. He was just upset that he was unable to apprehend the main suspect.”

“Oh, you heard.” Said Norton, sounding quite surprised. He turned to Naib who held a questioning look on his face. “It seemed that this man- and yes, I had not quite registered turning him to dust before my very eyes! - had been associated with numerous crimes. He was part of a strange occult and became a serial killer afterwards. He happened to be very skilled in embalming, which concealed all traces of his crimes. He held no formal embalmer title as he chose another trade.”

“The Commissioner had found him on one of the crime scenes, but with a lack of evidence, he had to let him go.” Norton then huffed in annoyance. “Well Balsa was quick in putting together a report, and with Aesop’s current attempted kidnapping and the discovery of his base. He had many accomplices and they will all be trialled next week.”

Aesop had been rushed to the hospital after, but due his frail condition, Emily had prohibited any of them seeing him for the next few days.

“The discovery of his base?” Naib sounded faint. How did they work so quickly?

“Oh, it was Jack.” Eli clarified cheerily. “He just happened to be ‘patrolling’ the area when he found the base.”

“And no one bothered to tell me.” Said Naib who folded his arms.

“Well, you were busy all night inking your report to our client. You even missed dinner.” Said Eli. “Anyway, it was because Aesop was directly involved in one of her client’s case, so Lady Nightingale would not hesitate to pour resources to have it solved quickly which was likely why we had Jack and Joseph on this case. The Manor Owner would not like any of his Recruits to be hurt in the open and furthermore, close to the public eye.”

“This- Lady Nightingale knew everything?” Muttered Naib, flabbergasted. 

“She always seemed to connect the dots before us.” Said Eli, who scratched on his bandages which Naib had observed earlier, were much thicker and fresher than before.

Naib still had his face set in a grimace as they set their way back home.

Perhaps, Naib thought, he would ask Jack about it later for Eli was not keen on speaking further. 

* * *

Aesop had been ill for the last few days before the incident, and his injury had only served to weaken him further. But he had rested well for the last few days in his private ward, as Joseph had requested for him and Emily’s good medicines sped up the recovery. He was now convalescent, and with returning strength, found himself in one of those moods of tranquillity he had missed for the last few days. But it was the kind of tranquillity before a storm.

He found himself peering through the smoky panes when he was not reading a book and he knew he was somewhere near Borough Market still. This place was very much one of the principal thoroughfares of the city, crowded almost the entire day, crowded in Autumn where the sun sets earlier. As the darkness came on, the throng momentarily increased, and the streetlamps well-lighted unlike those of Whitechapel street or Old Kent Road.

Aesop Carl observed, as those of the same trait usually. First, it was a general overview. Then, he came onto the details, the innumerable varieties of figure, dress, air, gait, visage and expressionless of countenance.

“A fair night.” Aesop turned to meet his long-time co-worker, Eli Clark, who sat down as if he had an invitation.

“Visitation hours are over.” Said Aesop, as he pulled a mask quickly over his face. Thick white bandages wound fast on his head to staunch the heavy bleeding, and he initially had some trouble to sling the mask over his ears.

“I did beg Emily.” Said Eli with a short, abrupt laugh before his face sunk in a sorrowful manner. “I hope you are alright.”

Aesop barely shifted his features and turned away.

“Perhaps, you lot should have left me dead.” Said Aesop. “I cannot put it in myself to tell Naib that it is my retribution. Every time, I regret my decisions. He should not be part of all this. I am after all bad with dealing with people.”

“Miss Dyer was told by Lady Nightingale to look after you. And I do not think Naib thinks anything bad of you.” Eli replied. “You tell me to be careful, but you yourself seem to lack the awareness as well.”

“And why me? Why did Lady Nightingale tell me to take the letter to continue the Embalming shop, to the point of renaming myself and the shop? And lied to me that I will have new start? I have already caused him much grief and he had died in in this kind of manner.” Said Aesop, who nervously clasped his gloved hands.

Aesop now looked and spoke, completely unnerved. “I never liked dwelling with mortal affairs anymore. They are complexed and frightening, and everything seems to collapse in my mind, and I could never really put the words out.”

Eli then rubbed his back in comforting circles.

“You sent him money every month, did you not?” Said Eli. “He had made a deal with something that should not be... He wished the other Aesop Carl dead because of his ample abuse, and you took his place. Hence, he directed his animosities towards you, whilst losing his mind. He drove himself mad and when he visited the client’s place in your name, Claude had noticed the strange presence and rushed to your aid. But I was told he might have taken a while to establish a somewhat corporal form. Still, he managed in time.”

“I couldn’t take it, so I crushed his letter of threat. I refused to think too much as I was feverish and delirious.” Said Aesop despondently. “When he hit me and bound me up in his basement, I just thought the cycle of karma is just coming upon me.”

“It will now end, as Naib always says. Things will come to pass.” Said Eli. “Upon contact with the Manor Owner, Joseph Desaulnier came back for you. Those bouquets of flowers on the table...it came from him.”

Beside him were garlands and bouquets of the most vibrant blooms. All kinds of flowers, from the common daises to those that were hard to name, tastes of an aristocratic french man. They comprised of colours one might weave their dreams from, as soft and gay as any silk, fancier than any hat, and the dew that were on their leaves and petals shimmered brighter than any brooch.

“I supposed, thank you.” Aesop calmed a little, not sure how to feel. He never really knew how to interact with others, with the constant shunning and humiliation he had experienced when he was a child. He was only given education because his father was a wealthy merchant; but upon the death of his mother, such things mattered no more. Afterwards, he only spent his time with corpses and a criminal of a mentor. He claimed to guide lost souls in life and to love death as they had loved life to give his life some form of direction.

He liked Naib the first time they met, there was something normal about that man and he craved the ordinary. He enjoyed Eli’s presence, despite knowing almost nothing on him. He would rather be killed to admit it, but he did appreciate Norton’s occasional noise in his otherwise silent life. He found a comradeship with Andrew, who too, had lived away from the population, only kissed the moonlight, and treated the graves as his home.

As for Emily, it was perhaps another story. He knew the woman might have been subjected to a form of commitment, as with everyone associated with the Manor Owner. He empathised with her and would not deny her brilliance. 

He would perhaps learn of her someday, how she came to his store one rainy night.

“Perhaps I could find it in myself to finally move on.” Said Aesop quietly.

He then paused in his thoughts and then turned towards the other after a period of silence. “To realise things to these extends for every case that you take on, might you be using your sight, or whatever you term that ability of yours, too much? Joseph says that there are limits to using them.”

It was Eli’s turn to flinch and retreat his hand from his back as if he had touched hot iron. Under Aesop’s unwavering gaze, he managed a feeble smile. Unlike all the other times before, he always had a word to say. This time, he said nothing.

And Aesop, due to a lack of better words, left his thoughts lingering like a puppet on a string.

How they always had been, the puppets dancing on their strings.

* * *

During the whole of a dull, dark and soundless day in the early autumn morning, where the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, Naib Subedar was in the dreary embalming shop of Old Kent Road and a sense of insufferable gloom pervaded his spirit.

And Jack, now that he called himself in this manner, his boon companion in his younger more reckless years, attempted some form of cheerfulness upon watching his brooding boyfriend. Naib did not bear any unorthodox temperament to his personality; he was very much generous in fact, but to Jack, he always seemed to keep a short fuse.

The taller man had found it absolutely, perplexingly adorable. 

“The Grave keeper Andrew found the base actually. I have actually gotten a notice from Lady Nightingale to search for a certain man hence I departed from the residence earlier.” Said Jack as slowly as he could, drawing his voice in a low tone as he gestured a hand to a certain direction. “The grave keeper greatly feared his friend’s safety and did a thorough search in the dark. Although if I may, I would comment that is extremely reckless of him.”

Andrew shrunk himself behind the shop’s curtains, visibly distressed. Naib had gotten a glimpse of him earlier. The man was very tall, perhaps standing at an impressive 6 feet, rivalling Jack for he was almost as big as the coffin he had been carrying. He might have been donned in thick, leathery clothes of black, but it only served as a contrast to his head.

He was a man of an interesting colour, perhaps of another race, like Naib who came abroad. His skin and hair were almost devoid of any pigmentation, a ghastly pallor and from his eyes, a hue which alternated between pink and red. His lips were thin and pallid, but of a surprisingly beautiful curve, and a wonderfully moulded chin. He was particularly sensitive to the sunlight, having his long near snow-white hair covering his face for that reason, and spent most of his days in a room at the back of the clinic. 

Andrew spoke nothing to his defence. He simply could not connect with them and was in nervous agitation. His earlier greetings, or attempted greetings, came of as feeble and futile in his opinion. Emily should have never left him to care for the store. She had told him that the store would be closed, and he need not worry. But at half past two, the detective Naib had come by, along with a Hunter. He could not turn away those of association with the Manor Owner, and so he had reluctantly let them in.

Hunters, Aesop said, are best to be avoided. Hunters who were the grim reapers that could be seen.

Now he remained seated, frozen, with one just merely a step away from him. He hoped this terrible day would pass soon.

“How did you find him?” Naib asked suddenly, and Andrew flinched behind the curtains.

“I…dug.” Said he, as he drew low breaths. He tried to conjure an image of himself having a proper conversation, but almost immediately, that image collapsed miserably. “Am…familiar with coffins- places with coffins… graveyards.”

“Embalmers rarely stray far away from mortuaries or graveyards.” Said Jack.

“You can dig into a cellar?” Echoed Naib.

“The cellar is loosely constructed and roughly plastered, from which the dampness of the air had prevented it from hardening. One could easily displace the bricks with a crowbar, or a mere shovel.” Explained Jack. “Would you like to visit the location? Though I will add, it is teeming with police officers.”

“Not necessary. How did you know it was his base?” Asked Naib.

“The smell of cheap chemicals.” Said Andrew who was especially acute with his senses from his lack of interactions. “The same smell…when Aesop disappeared that night.”

“And the mark of a forbidden god.” Said Jack. “On his wall, was the mark of a particular cult who worships an outer god. In simpler understanding, it is the mark of a forbidden god. Upon orders, I had to scrap it away.”

“I had never heard of this.” Said Naib, whose face was slightly pale, but he maintained an expressionless façade.

“Of course, you’ve haven’t. Have you heard of the Oletus Detective Agency anywhere else?” Jack chuckled coldly. “We don’t talk too much about this anyway. We humans are hard of understanding sometimes.”

There was something in the tone of his voice which gave Naib great uneasiness. Was it the mysteries that surrounded London? Or perhaps, the detective agency?

He was a foot in deeper and already, there was so much more to bear.

But Naib knew. He always knew what Jack meant. "Do not ask anymore."

He knew Andrew’s cautious gazes which peeked between the gap of the curtains. 

Any deeper, no way out.


	17. The Picture of Joseph Desaulnier [VII]: Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late updates. I have been terribly busy. But it will be my break soon, and I can resume writing. That being said, there are five mysteries to this installment. I do want to take a break and try my hand on fantasy genres afterwards. Thank you all for your support and do take care as per the usual!

**The Strange Case of Aesop Carl (VII)**

“An old chapter ends in France and a new one begins in London.” Said Joseph, a tad somber as he turned to the bloody floor. Therein, Claude stared at him with hollow eyes.

“It is a little dirty.” He sighed as he trod nimbly over the carcass. “But he had dealt badly with the markets. He was once a valuable client due to his association with Kreacher, but no more since he had lost contact with that man about a month ago. Not to mention, he was crass with his hands on you-”

Claude shifted his head a little.

“Nothing. I thought we could finally spend quality time together. After all, I am due to move in with Aesop.” Said Joseph. He stroked his chin in deep thought. “Is it me, or perhaps Lady Nightingale is allocating every Hunter to a group of Recruits?”

There was a soft cry of confusion, and Joseph returned a smile to the ghost who carried a look of curiousity towards all that he had said. “Nothing dear brother. It is just the ramblings of an old man.”

* * *

_School was due to resume on Monday, but Claude hadn’t got better since he had gotten the flu. At least the doctor said it was a flu, but Joseph wouldn’t know any better. Claude was very pale and white, and it had frightened Joseph to death. Claude was no longer singing or smiling, and he threw up after every meal. The maids whispered harsh remarks about the poorer twin who was going to die, and his parents only sought to leave France to avoid the pandemic._

_Children dying were of common occurrence. Their immune systems were not built to withstand such vile diseases. Joseph, who had been strong and healthy and capable at everything, earning the praises of his tutors and professors was their sole reassurance. Claude, who was slightly more withdrawn, quiet and a shy soul, meant not anything but a secondary investment._

_And when night came, Joseph knew something was horribly wrong. He was told to avoid his brother. But how could he ever leave his sun? Dear Claude, who light up his life! Dear Claude, who was there to sing with him. Dear Claude, who played in the willow trees with him._

_Claude laid in his bed with his face congested as he hacked violently. His cheeks and forehead were a dark red and his eyes rolled intermittently as if he was suffocating, as he struggled to fight against death with indescribable courage and patience. Perhaps he was convinced he would pull through. Joseph was nearly convinced he would pull through._

_He could not speak, but with his burning hand, he gripped his brother’s hand fervently with so much affection that Joseph started crying._

_“Doctor! Doctor!” Cried Joseph loudly. Hopefully, someone might rouse from their fitful slumber and come over to aid._

_Claude looked as if he was trying to say something to him. He looked towards the window and then back to his brother, as if he were trying to indicate something. But Joseph had been too caught up in his despair, and only realized when Claude was seized by a terrible fit of breathlessness. His lovely blue eyes- orbs which glistened a deeper blue- rolled upwards, his cheeks darkened further, and he struggled gently._

_It was then the doors flung opened and the doctor rushed in, and the servants dragged the wailing Joseph out. Joseph still had hoped. He ran to the church the next day, which was a Sunday, and prayed. He convinced himself that the end was nowhere near and tomorrow, Claude will be sleeping alongside him once more._

_Claude died on Sunday evening._

_Everything was a muddled mess for Joseph who was confused in deep grief. Walking across the hallway which they used to play in, of their grand mansion was excruciatingly painful. Everything was senseless, everything was bitter now that he was dead. Those days of playing in the seasons, those days of music, those days of art, mattered not anymore._

_It was miserable._

_No more fever. No more struggle. Claude was somewhere better, said the Father of the church at the funeral._

_The funeral was due at noon on Monday and Joseph had skipped his classes. It was swift, and they called in a poor embalmer. Claude might had been dressed nicely, and he did look like sleeping doll, but he did no further procedures. For fear of infection, said he, and Joseph thought that he embalmed Claude in a way which was set forth to a rapid decomposition._

_Despite his parents’ vehement protests, he set down to kiss his brother’s forehead. His locks were sucked onto his lips, and the taste of dead earth overwhelmed his senses. It made him breathless and he wept for the very final time in his life._

* * *

“Go away.” Snarled Aesop, whose hand was trembling against the doorknob. The man was much better and was recovered.

“I know you are intrigued with me.” Said Joseph with a snide smile.

“That does not mean you will live with me!” Snapped Aesop. “Furthermore, yes, did I not thank you enough at the hospital? I will try my best to offer my services to you in any way possible-”

"Like, perhaps in bed?" 

"You are far cry from it!"

“Are you heartless to cast me out in the streets of London? I have just arrived here not long ago.” Joseph replied suavely, twirling his locks. 

“He is right, Mister Carl.” A voice piped out.

Aesop turned to see Emily behind.

“Emily.” He gasped in surprise.

“Forgive my sudden opinion, Mister Carl. I think it might be better to have someone who is able to take care of this place.” Said Emily with a glint in her eye. “I am just a lady and Andrew work the night shift to take care of finances. You are still injured, and often alone at night. It is only best if Mister Desaulnier stays here to protect you.”

“You know my name.” Quipped Joseph with a mixture of suspicion and mild surprise.

“It is only natural for the curious and busybody me to know which secret angel had visited Mister Carl during his stay at the hospital.” Said Emily hurriedly, and she proceeded to change the topic. “I am still saying that you are unable to move well.” 

Joseph did not quite buy it, but Jack said to not pry too much in the lady's business, and so he resumed to teasing the embalmer. 

“Emily, I… I am very well!” Said Aesop, whose face was starting to flush as he moved away from the entrance.

“I see you have taken to keep my flowers.” Said Joseph then who took no hesitation in entering the store the moment the opportunity was given.

“Joseph, I, please implore you to…to find your own residence!” Aesop shrieked looking away, a little too out of character as Andrew watched in amusement behind the curtains.

“I see you have taken a liking to my face too.” Smiled Joseph at the blushing retreating figure.

"Seriously, find another residence!"

* * *

“Hello Fiona. I supposed it is time. Do not worry too much. They will leave London soon and we will soon join you for your investigations.” Eli then finally placed the receiver down, in which he had tapped in a series of Morse codes.

“Will it be soon, Eli?” Emma stood at the doorway, her feet shuffling. “I've heard plenty of rumours. They said Mister Kreacher has gone missing. Emily did tell me it is okay, but Mister Scarecrow says otherwise. I love Emily but at the same time, I am confused.”

“Yes. I promise I will try my best to come to your case quickly.” Eli smiled tightly, his expression unreadable. “Unfortunately for us, there is something of greater urgency. Due to this case, that someone might have angered Yog- Sothoth.” 

“Yog- Sothoth?” Echoed Emma gravely and with articulate pronunciation. She didn’t sound anything fourteen, like she was never fourteen to begin with.

“The Feaster, he who is not to be named.” Said Eli solemnly, and he took in deep breath of his cigar. He thought that he might be running out of cigarettes soon as his case was light. He felt his hands trembling with the lighter and Rose Brooks nuzzled on his cheek to act as her master’s temporal comfort. 

“I do not wish to meet that volatile god so soon.”


	18. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush [I]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the 2 weeks, i released this one quickly!   
> Aye, I finally am able to access my twitter which i have forgotten my password. I just started out brand new as i am not very handy with social media, and I do occasional art, yes! But here is the link if you wish to view their outfits, I made minor adjustments to their outfits here and there. Thank you for your constant support and reading this self-indulgent fic of mine. 
> 
> https://twitter.com/Yura53860933/status/1270287497868664832?s=19
> 
> Here I made references to Edgar Allen Poe. I really love his works. His grasp of description is insanely good.

**The Strange Case of Norton Campbell [I]**

For nearly a month it had been peaceful, and winter had arrived early in dreary London that year. Until the news had reported the devastation of a new plague, the ‘Red Death’. No pestilence had ever been so fatal and so malicious. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and profuse bleeding from every orifice as if every internal organ were melted into red hot blood. The scarlet stains upon the body were proof of the disease, and every person who had the mark, man or child were cast to the slums outside London. 

“To think we would prosper at a time like this.” Said Andrew dishearteningly as he chewed on good meat. He should not have the stomach for it, yet the food was nigh irresistible,having been prepared by Joseph, who had proven himself to be a great baker, chef, and pianist. 

“We do run an embalming and coffin shop. Not to mention, this functions as a clinic the morning.” Aesop replied, as he prepared his nightly routine. Claude had watched him curiously and did a little dance-like twirl in response when Aesop nodded stiffly at him. It had seemed that Aesop must had did a little ballet with him, not that embalmer would ever admit it.

“It is not infectious.” Said Emily as she finished packing her medical bag. “But the church says it is a disease from the wrath of god. There is no cure, and death is surely imminent upon a few days. All I can give is a couple of painkillers to ease their passing, as their families and friends have all abandoned them out of fear.”

“Fear?” Echoed Aesop curiously.

“Cursed by the devil.” Said Andrew gravely. He choked a bit on the juices, and quickly placed down his knife.

Aesop ceased to comment and briskly headed downstairs. It was a grisly sight, today's recent addition was a body with red and purple bruises marring the skin.

“There is no cause of death, other than the wrath of a god.” Said Joseph, who stood by the entrance watching him. “Lady Nightingale’s need for investigation is futile. How about a dance instead?”

“Not now, Joseph.” Aesop snapped irritably, as he reached over for a makeup brush and delicately dusted powdered foundation onto the corpse’s face. After that, he would have to drain the body. The illness made it simple, no dissection needed. 

First, he would make them beautiful.

And Joseph relished in the dedication of his arts.

Emily quietly watched them and closed the cellar door. She had been staying quite late these days. She should had expected something when Lady Nightingale mentioned that a storm would blow past London. Then again, there were many things a mere mortal cannot fathom. 

“Has it started?” Emily asked aloud, and Andrew looked up at her in surprise, having returned from the kitchen to pick up his tools. She tightened her lips to an awkward line, and scurried away, not before uttering a ‘good night’.

She turned away rather pointedly to meet the carriage, which was now coming onto her street and saw the bodies piled up by River Thames. Blood was mixed with the waste and its pavement stained red. She took a few steps to her right, and at the corner of her eye, she spotted a silhouette long forgotten but-

But time never did its job well enough.

“Leo Beck.” She never thought she would utter this name again.

* * *

“And so!” Said Norton in a cheerful and hearty tone, cheerier he had ever been despite the drear in London. “We are going to South Africa.”

Naib drew a long breath, with air of a man being laden by some terrible burden and said in the coolest of manners. “What the hell are you proposing?”

“I found it. The map, yes from a dying victim of the Red Death, but he was dying anyway- in prison I must add, he raped like five girls. Anyway, I found history.” Norton rambled excitedly. He had been actively presenting his plan to both men since the last five days. “We will make history. There is gold in South Africa, that strange land found in books!”

“And how is that to deal with me?” Naib asked feeling rather aggravated.

“Help me. I’ll give you a portion of the gold!” Quipped Norton as he thrusted a map of South Africa into Naib’s hands. “I won’t be familiar of my way there.”

“I am a detective! Not an explorer! Or a way-finder- whatever you call those people!” Naib shrieked in anger, shoving the paper away.

“No use convincing him, Naib.” Luca sighed lazily as he shoved another cookie in his mouth before proceeding to scratch his stubble. “That mad lad wants me to come along as well. He said I could be help with the compasses and fixing his magnets. Me, a criminal, who is to be executed.”

“It is not an actual case.” Said Naib. "Plus should we not stay indoors since we still do not know the cause of the Red Death-"

“Your boyfriend can come along if needed.” Said Norton, his expression drawing a sudden blank. "The Red Death is not infectious. We either live or die in this moment."

Naib flushed a deep red and trembled violently. “I wasn’t...! God, Norton!”

“Nortie.” Said Luca, ignoring Naib’s groaning. “Have you heard of the Franklin Expedition?”

“Yes.” Norton snapped. “It was a tragic expedition.”

“You’re right.” Said Luca, sucking on his chocolate-coated fingers. “You see, Nortie. We go South Africa, yeah? We’ll end up like that.”

“Like our ship being stuck on ice? It’s Africa, Balsa.” Said Norton sarcastically.

“No, Nortie.” Luca said as if he was chiding a child. “I am saying, we all end up becoming dead men.”

“Balsa!” Norton shrieked in anger. 

Naib thought he should quell the outburst before Rose Brooks start squawking in fright again. It was then he realised that the owl was not on her perch, and there was no sweeping or floors or movement upstairs.

Naib pursed his lips as he pulled Norton by the collar. “I was wondering if you have seen Eli. I have not seen him all day, and he seemed out of it. I hope he is not ill.”

“He is well. He has just left for Lakeside Village.” Said Norton, shrugging listlessly, anger simmering. “He brought Emma and Rose Brooks with him yester-noon. But you were on a date with that Jack, and he asked Balsa to leave you a note.”

“Where is the note?” Naib asked, turning towards Luca accusingly.

“I forgot to write it. But it’s something about… All the best! The agency is in your hands! Thumbs up! Kudos!” Said Luca as he made a ‘thumbs up’ gesture.

Naib blinked in shock, his jaw slightly slacked, unable to process the information.

“He usually leaves suddenly, but he will be back before you know it.” Said Norton as he jumped onto the couch. “Though, yes, I admit. He seemed out of it recently… but it might have been his fiancée or something.”

“Fiancée?” Naib was flabbergasted.

“Yes, he’s engaged.” Said Norton. “He used to have that golden band around his finger, looks pretty expensive by the looks of it… but he had it removed before you came. I didn’t ask, you know? He did mention to me and Emma once he has a girl waiting for him somewhere.”

“Alright. But-”

There was gentle rap on the door and all three men turned to the direction of the noise.

At first, they might had thought that it was Aesop, or Victor but their knocks were usually short and abrupt. Aesop rarely knocked either way, he would avoid pointless conversations and Victor, he only came to deliver letters. So there would be his dog barking incessantly while the dumping of papers could be heard afterward. 

They had not expected clients coming upon their doorstep. 

* * *

Naib dared say it was the most beautiful woman he had seen in his life. She had such charm combined with dignity. Her clothes had made her waist so slender than she seemed fragile. A great brown coat of fur was thrown around her shoulders. She seemed so solemn, so delicate, as her brown hair framed her finely moulded face. A veil concealed a good part of her features and her violet eyes sparkled like amethyst from her fair white skin.

And by the gods, she smelt heavenly.

While Naib flustered himself over to speak to her, it actually proved rather simple. She spoke in the manner of Emily and she had nothing of social and racial expectancies.

“Sit down.” She said, when Naib found himself standing. He felt almost embarrassed to present this mess of an agency, but she seemed to pay no heed to it. Luca was no longer in the room thankfully; he must have scampered away upon them heading towards the door, and both men proceeded to introduce themselves.

“Vera Nair. I have come to you for a request.” Said she. “It is rumoured among us…clients that the Oletus Detective Agency would be able to solve unorthodox problems.”

“Vera Nair!” Norton exclaimed. “That perfume brand that all the ladies have been wearing! Are you perhaps the owner of that chain brand?”

“Indeed I am.”

“What an honour!”

“Do not flatter me. I will come to this case quickly. I suppose you wish to depart to South Africa?” She said demurely, her hands folded in a cross on her lap.

“Yes.” Norton awkwardly shuffled the map away, realising that she must have seen it.

And Vera Nair smiled, but it seemed almost vacuous. “You must accept my request. Our goals will only be similar in nature. You see, I aim to complete my ultimate perfume… and you will learn of its name, ‘Euphoria’…in the memory of my sister. I was told I am able to find the key to completing my recipe over there. Near that gold mine, there lives a merchant who sells special ingredients.”

“The gold mine has been a topic of discussions, but many have lost their lives attempting to claim it.” She went on. “I will hire additional help for your search for the gold mine. The merchant is strange… and I have heard rumours of them coming up with strange requests. I supposed I could use your deduction skills.”

Naib saw the lady’s soft face, her eyes holding such innocence and her slightly rosy lips as she remained still. There was a subtle cry of pleading, and Naib, found himself agreeing to her request. He was speechless and mesmerized, and watched as Vera Nair thanked him gently.

“I will purchase your tickets. You will come to see me in two days by the port.” She said so hurriedly.

“Yes…Miss Nair.” Said Norton who snapped out from his stupor. “Also, pardon our insolence, we failed to offer our condolences to your sister.” 

At that, Vera Nair did not smile, she resumed an air of childlike innocence and bowed. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

“Wait.” It was then a voice piped up.

“Balsa?” It was the first time Vera Nair exhibited surprise on her countenance.

Naib and Norton turned to look at him in complete shock, half expecting the lady to react distastefully or perhaps even, shrieked hysterically. But Vera Nair did nothing of those crass actions, and her violet eyes observed the other intently, fervently, as if she was trying to pry some secret out of him.

“Aye…” Said Luca, who seemed to have a strange look. “I will be part of this.”

Vera Nair said nothing, only biting her lip and lowering her gaze. There was a moment of lingering silence before she spoke up. “I am glad you were not falsely executed. I was even rejoicing that you broke out of jail.”

“Thank you for helping me that night…” Luca twisted his lips. “…Vera.”

And all colour drained from Vera Nair’s face, but she said nothing and stood there looking pretty. When she held out her hand to say goodbye, there was this secret understanding between Luca and her when they shook hands. If only for a spilt second, her eyes were clear, and the message passed between them was clearer than any words.

“You know her.” Said Naib dryly.

“Yeah.” Said Luca. He wasn’t smiling like he always did. “Don’t get too close to her, lover boy. She is a lady of many secrets, and it wouldn’t do you good to pry them.”

Naib rubbed his temple. Somehow, it seemed like another troublesome case. 


	19. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush [II]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late updates. I had a rough week. But how was the voting and thoughts on the new Survivor? I was actually churning ideas for fantasies alternate universes with Mercenary's Eagle Dance, Pharaoh and Chesire, then Entomologist's Essence pop to be a mix of Murder on the Orient Express and Snowpiercer? Concepts which I really love? Maybe that is where I will focus on Antonio as well.   
> I am sorry Eli is quite not involved in this or even any of the mysteries. But there is definitely going to be a major part for him later.As for Norton, he will be focused more in later chapters. I just need to built up the atmosphere first.

**The Strange Case of Norton Campbell [II]**

Two days later at the port, Naib Subedar stood with his eyes wide opened in disbelief, while Norton Campbell was buying a dozen donuts and Luca Balsa was being nowhere in sight. Vera Nair had not bought a ticket for the wanted criminal, for firstly tickets were exclusive; London aristocrats were scrambling to get away from the epidemic. There also had been news reports that they had been demanding the Titanic to be completed as soon as possible.

Luca had assured them he had a way with locks. A ship was no different from a prison- at least, according to Balsa. Naib was not surprised. Luca had invited himself to all their rooms, claiming that he just somehow found his way there. On some days when he decided to take a shower, he would be in Norton’s room drenched wet on his bed with a small towel, for he never bothered to dry himself. And Naib was sure he was just there to spite the other man.

Still, back to the more important factor at hand which also placed the ex-mercenary in a pitiable state of agitation, was that he was faced with a truly fine looking fellow. Gone was his usual filthy trench coat, pale mask, or anything mysterious and Whitechapel about him, he now had a presence singularly commanding, the air of an established artist and of high breeding, all pervading about him.

“Jack?” Naib spluttered with a degree of anxious embarrassment after about ten minutes of gawking.

“You finally called my name.” The man smiled, blowing his briar pipe, as he adjusted his fancy blue trench coat. His eyes were shadowed by his fedora, but it seemed to glisten like Obsidians above his pale rosy cheekbones. His hair was extremely short and neatly combed, just as like Eli’s hair, the common for the Englishman.

“You said you wouldn’t remove the mask!” Said Naib, his face a bright pink.

“But you had to go to Africa.” Said Jack with a horrible charming grin (for he knew he was winning against the smaller man). “I thought if you would see my face, you wouldn’t bear to leave.”

“What nonsense!” Naib cried.

“I am coming with you.” Said Jack.

“I beg your pardon.” Naib muttered in shock.

“I am coming.” Jack gestured to the ship. “To Africa with you. Do not think I am able to leave you without the Seer…” He paused abruptly as if pondering.

“I am coming along.” He then repeated. Naib remained quiet, trying to register the news; or perhaps the care and concern he never had since he was ten, until a familiar voice broke the silence between them.

“Good morning, Mister Svengali.” Vera Nair greeted unknowingly. She had seen them afar and approached to properly greet like every lady of her class would.

“You know him, Miss Nair?” Naib asked uneasily.

“Yes, he is a great barber.” Vera Nair nodded with enthusiasm before pursing her lips with light concern. “My cousin loved the way you did her hair… If it is not too rude of me, might I ask why depart on this journey with us?”

Jack turned to Naib, who flushed more uncharacteristically before shrugging his shoulders lightly in jest. “A vacation I supposed, from the madness here. And dear Africa, I have heard, have lions and creatures which are no more at the circus.”

“Circus?” Naib echoed aloud. “Is it the famous Hullabaloo Circus?”

“Aye, that Hullabaloo Circus.” Said Jack with a sort of indistinguishable expression. “Burnt down a few years ago.”

“A tragedy.” Said Vera Nair. She quickly turned to Naib.

“Come, I have individuals I would like to introduce to you. They will help us on our journey.” She said hurriedly. Naib was a little reluctant and spied a glance at Jack before he went away with the lady and they stopped near the loading bay.

He was then introduced to the presence of another individual whom he first noted, had the pungent smell of alcohol tinged on him. He was quite tall, not as impressive as Norton’s height, but still, rather well-built as if he were made for the sea. His hair was richly flowing, with a bright glossy sheen of auburn. He seemed to have salt crusted on his mustache, and most notably, his eyes were a strange combination of green and yellow. They were large and lustrous, despite the haziness from his drunken stupor, and had an expression of unsaid determination and sorrow.

Naib, for a moment, thought he was looking at regret.

“Jose.” He gruffly stretched out his hand as he adjusted his collar, which was not properly set. “I will guide you at sea.” 

“Naib Subedar.” Said Naib, who took his hand and noting the lack of a surname. “A detective.”

Jose looked at him and for that spilt second, seemed alert and sober, as if he was sharply analysing the other. “Oh, a detective.” Replied Jose while rubbing his nose before returning to his strange wobble as Naib watched him intensely with the eyes of an eagle.

“Jose Baden.” Said Norton, approaching Naib while munching on a donut.

“Baden?” Naib scrunched his eyebrows, recognising the familiarity of that name due to his military heritage. “That Baden-!”

“Hush!” Norton disapprovingly shoved a donut into the other’s mouth.

“I heard he disappeared.” Naib took the donut out from his mouth looking quite upset. He did not quite enjoy the sweet bun. “At sea.”

“Not him. But his father. His father’s ship disappeared.” Said Norton, dropping his voice excessively low, trying to thrill Naib with the mystery of his tone. “The queen was furious- it was the best promised treasures and her best navy after all and they just went missing at the drop of the hat. She stripped everything off his family. It was quite a big thing among the aristocrats many years ago. The wealthy were happy. Baden didn’t belong to the Englishman or Britain.”

“But do you know why the ship disappeared?” Continued Norton with an unnecessary pause. “It was said that among the treasures, they had carried an ancient umbrella from China. It cursed the ship.”

“More like I think it was stolen. It had cursed the palace and the chinese locals put in the place that should never been touched.” A voice piped up.

Naib and Norton both jumped and saw a small man by their side. He was a little taller than Naib and there was nothing too extraordinary about him other than his absolutely ragged clothing, unkempt hair and huge backpack. There was a scar which ran down to his cheek on the right side of his face. He was better clad than Baden, with his white bidet and black vest, but he looked more like he was trying to dress up to impress rather than an everyday Londoner.

“Mister Frank!” They heard Vera Nair gasped from a distance. “There you are! I was looking for you.”

“Apologies, miss.” The man replied heartily. “I was gathering supplies.”

He then turned to both men. “Kurt Frank.” He said briskly and Norton and Naib respectively introduced themselves.

“Mister Frank is an experienced explorer. He will help Jose to navigate at sea and us on land.” Said Vera Nair with a tight smile. She then took out something from her purse, before turning back to them again. Her eyes were darting to and fro. “Apologies gentlemen, I may have to take my leave. I have to make sure everything is in order.”

“Why don’t you call the servants?” Kurt asked.

“Some things…” Said Vera Nair as she seemed to ponder innocuously. “It is best to see with one’s own eye.” She then quickly turned, and putting on the demeanor of a shy lady, she scurried away daintily. Naib looked on quietly, not realising the donut icing had seeped onto his fingers.

“Are you going to eat that?” Norton asked irritably.

“You shoved it into my mouth in the first place.” Naib retorted. He then gestured to the leftover donuts which Norton held by a single arm. “I’m surprised you would leave any for Luca.”

“Balsa?” Norton choked exaggeratedly. “No way!” With his face red, he quickly swerved away from the smaller man and started a conversation with Kurt, most probably about that ancient umbrella. 

Naib sighed audibly. He would have wanted to toss the sweet bread to a starving child, but he had bitten in it and he ended up reluctantly taking small nibbles instead. He knew what starvation felt like and was never one to waste food. He strolled to a section where he could admire the view of the vessel that he would ride in for a few good weeks.

Being in war, he had seen many beautiful vessels. He had never been part of the navy, but he had seen his fill of the warships when he had camped by the seaside. Despite his dislike for the English, their inventions had never ceased to amaze him. As he watched people loading up big cargo boxes, he vaguely recalled how Vera Nair had told him that the ship would be freighted with other things. It had to be that way, because if an English were to go to Africa, it had to be also for trading purposes.

This vessel belonged to a Chinese merchant as she had also claimed to give them an ease of mind for overseas travel. And Naib knew she was not lying, for the teak seemed nothing like what he had seen in England and that the bolts were more securely fastened in place than what he had seen in a warship. There were strange engravings on it, which Norton had noted that they were Chinese characters.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” A foreign, yet husky and melodious voice lulled from behind. Naib turned rigidly and was met with the gaze of a strange man with small, fox-like eyes and dressed in a white suit. He had a very graceful charming smile, very much like Jack and he stood regally like royalty. 

_No_. Naib thought as he furrowed his brows. _He had little to no presence, like Jack and Joseph._

“You look like a cute little puppy.” He said. The man had an accent, but he spoke it in a manner which made him all the more appealing. “No wonder he is so fond of you.”

Him? Puppy? Naib was flabbergasted at the statement. For heaven's sake, he was a grown man-!

He thought he heard a flutter and Rose Brooks crying in the distance before the smell of cypress trees enveloped his senses. 

“Xie Bi An.” Said Jack and his greeting came out more like a snarl. “Fancy seeing you here.”

And Xie Bi An just smiled, his eyes turning into haunting crescents and Naib detected an eerie faint red glow from the slits of his eyes that made him seemed almost demon.

"Hello, Jack." Said Xie Bi An. "I came to ride the ship too." 


	20. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush [III]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, my apologies for the late updates. My computer crashed... and I lost all my documents in there including all my work and chapters that I have drafted out. I have to finish up my work first, hence there was a delay in the story. That being said, it is the last few days of season 11. I love Mary's Madame Bella and I have no regrets to get her. 
> 
> That being said, I might try and do a story of Detective Naib and Lachesis as a spinoff, following the game content. I usually am quite active on Twitter. I will give my story updates there and I make occasional fanarts too! Thank you all for you patience and support. Full appreciation!!

**The Strange Case of Norton Campbell [III]**

“Nortie.” Said Luca, as he stood by the window of an empty cabin in which he had so graciously taken over, looking down at Vera Nair hurriedly passing her last orders to load t up the foreign cargo. “Your donuts are melting.”

Norton flinched, and felt the sweet syrup seeping through the gaps of his fingers before stuffing the pastry into his mouth. “I just felt a little off, I supposed.” He confessed before launching himself into a series of ramblings. “Perhaps it is the adrenaline. The gold rush-”

It was still a clear and crisp morning, with not a single strand of cloud cotton in the sky, and the snow of the day before still laid deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Yet, it was still the perfect weather for a ship’s departure, to the warmer grounds of Africa.

Luca rose lazily from the armchair and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking quite skeptically at him. “Campbell, you don’t look so good.” He whispered, rubbing his nose.

“Because!” He started and he tried his hardest to refrain himself from yelling at Luca as to avoid unwanted attention. “You are in my cabin!”

“Are you not happy to share the cabin with me?” Luca pouted, looking not quite sorry. 

“Scram off!” Norton hissed. “Miss Nair has assigned a room to you, did she not?”

“Yes, she did, and I’ll be having these.” Said Luca, before he hoisted the donut packet on the table. “I have such kindly people caring for me. You are not a bad man despite the fact that we had a bad start, Nortie.”

“I offered you one donut and you ate three. Now, you dare have the audacity to take all of them?” Norton growled. 

“Then, I’ll casually have myself laid comfortably on your armchair-”

“Just scram!” Norton flung the door open, and when he ensured no one was by the corridor, he threw Luca out with the donuts that he had refused to hand over.

When all was quiet, he retired onto the armchair, trying to recall the series of events that had occurred at the speed of a freight train since Naib Subedar’s arrival. He needed rest, he thought as he rubbed his temples.

This was precisely why he did not follow Eli Clark on some of his cases. It was hard of a human understanding and most of the time, he felt like he was about to run his sanity dry on a single case. Naib Subedar must have some form of mental fortitude to have been able to withstand and to take in stride such things of near inhuman nature.

He had sensed a nasty presence earlier, and that was not of Jack the Ripper, but someone of great familiarity, to which he never got attuned with them.

Wu Chang or Xie Bi An in this case. That sniveling fox, he never made it simple for Eli back then with his strange requests.

He knew it would never be simple, but he needed money. His magnets might have been stolen from him, but he would prove the existence of the 119th element, and he would gain the reputation that would come with the discovery, and never, never return to that dump again.

Never again.

Norton found his palms trembling as he took a deep breath. Despite the chill of the weather, his forehead was bathed in clammy vapour and his nostrils whiffed the peculiar smell of burnt flesh.

“An accident.” He told himself. The ship was set to depart soon, and Norton feeling the sudden weight of fatigue, his eyelids like burning leads, chose to lull himself to a restless sleep instead.

* * *

Many years ago, he contracted an intimacy with a Doctor Duquein Thompson. The Thompson family were one of the scientific elites in his area, but a series of misfortunes had reduced them from the rich people lands to a residence beside the slums; the slums that he lived in specifically. He had a laboratory however, a white building, the only thing less of an eyesore. 

There was no name for a slum. Frankly, if they weren’t near the main capitals, the streets were rarely named. There was a small creek, oozing with sludge and slime. Vegetation were scant and scarce. No trees of magnitude to be seen. The buildings, or rather miserable decrepit looking frame-structures were tenanted by fugitives or the non-English.

By accident, Norton Campbell had met his acquaintance. He was an inquisitive lad, with a handsome face and big for his age. Despite his poor living conditions, his wittiness had always landed him a tier above his peers. He never knew a mother and his father, who was a miner, disliked his son’s carefree attitude.

“You can earn money in the mines.” His father had told him.

Earn what, thought young Norton, a dime perhaps? Would it be enough to feed? But if he were to be a James Marshall, to find a river full of gold, then gladly he would mine.

Slowly, Doctor Thompson was intrigued by his brightness. Norton had always been great with his words. It blossomed into a friendship and soon, the doctor had allowed a mere slum boy into his quarters. The man had many books and many samples, of which were to do with geology and geography. The vivid colours of every gem fascinated the young boy to no end.

“One of my great-uncles specialised in minerals and salts, but he wasn’t exactly successful.” Said Doctor Thompson.

“What about you?” Asked Norton curiously.

“Oh, reptiles.” Replied Doctor Thompson, but it seemed more of a malicious sneer. “I just simply _adore_ them.” 

One night a few years later, Norton received a cordial welcome into the man's residence once. There again, he noted a strange man in the room, whom Doctor Thompson seemingly and affectionately nick-named him ‘Luchino’. Luchino was his closest co-worker and fellow scientist who worked with him in the nearby laboratory.

Luchino was a skinny man of average built, he had strange red hair braided like a that belonging to a red-Indian tribe or a negro that he had seen once in the slums, and his skin was far too tanned to be considered one of them white people. He often stood hunched-back, in the far corners of the room as he fervently read on notes. He was often quiet and spoke with a strange accent that did not come from this land.

Yet, very similar in nature with Doctor Thompson, he enjoyed the study of reptiles and was found to be a better student than himself. He found himself enjoying their conversations and soon enough, had a friendship, which Norton might term as his most genuine. Luchino was sincere with his work, despite his idiosyncrasies and uncanny obsessions with lizards.

Now, Doctor Thompson had wished to have both their opinions on a matter. “I received two news. A new species of lizard, I believe, was discovered. It is said to have mystical powers, as of levitation and immortality.”

“Powers like these?” Exclaimed Luchino in disbelief. “That is ludicrous! This is not some novel, Doctor Thompson.”

“Hush now!” Said Doctor Thompson quite irritably. “I’ve seen it with mine own two eyes and I will have it sent to the laboratory. It is quite a beautiful creature and I will have it sent down to the lab by next week. Next, the lizard was found next to strange stone. An ore which no one had seen before. It emitted strange fumes and affected all around it, like some form of hypnotism.”

Luchino shook his head in denial.

Doctor Thompson then pulled out two black rocks from his suitcase, which made a vibrating noise like the start of an engine, in which they seemed to alleviate in his box.

“Magnets.” Said Luchino, who looked unamused. “Very strong ones.”

“Not man-made. But found.” Said Doctor Thompson with a low voice. “Found next to that very same ore and then, became into this manner.” He looked a little nettled from their stunned expressions, which seemed to suggest that he looked more like a lunatic in their eyes than making a scientific breakthrough. 

“Never mind.” He said at length. “I’ll draw out the map so you would not think that I am insane.” He drew from his waistcoat pocket of dirty foolscap and made a rough drawing with a pencil. While he did this, Norton’s eyes trailed to the magnets in the box, but deigned to touch them. When the design was complete, he handed it to Norton without rising. Norton took the sketch in hand, and in all honesty, was more puzzled than anything else.

“That is unique structure of a cavern. A helix shape mine... This is rather odd! How does the earth support such a unique structure!” Exclaimed Norton, who during the last few years had explored the surrounding mines. He took up the job as a miner like his father, but it was more for the act of knowledge than the mining. "It might even just collapse..."

For a moment, they then remained silent and Norton found that it was late, and he had to rise early the next day. He took his leave with the drawing, not wishing to ruffle Doctor Thompson’s temper any farther, but not before seeing Luchino at the door.

“I think you should drop it. You know what I mean, that map.” Said Luchino with a grave expression and a hushed whisper. “Thompson…he isn’t exactly a very good guy. That lab, he set it up with the last of the family funds and I think a lot of goes on in there, as the janitor said. I do not like to speak bad of my co-worker, but we hadn’t been exactly on the best terms recently. I feel…like he’s more like the cult followers in my country.”

The man shrugged his shoulders.

“Right! I thought he was speaking of Shangri-La or something.” Chuckled Norton lightly. But Luchino wasn't laughing at his bad jokes for once.

He should’ve known better. Norton, the fool.

* * *

His father had found the note when he left his clothes in the open. His old man had hurt his back, and was advised to rest for a few days, but was surprisingly of an alert mind.

“Is that a map of a mine?” Asked the old man.

“Sure is.” Said Norton as he attempted to pry the note from the old man’s veiny hands, but his father, movements uncharacteristic for his age, just swerved away nimbly. “Now give it back.”

“Sure as hell remind me of an old tale.” The old man said instead. “They say the structure of that mine goes downwards, like the spirals which downwards to hell; like that of this picture. But in there, you can find so much gold. So much gold that can last you more than ten lifetimes!”

“What mine is this?” Asked Norton hurriedly.

His father’s face sunk immediately before he solemnly replied. “Son, don’t attempt it. Just work hard as you’ve always had.”

“But that would not buy us meat to last the winter.” Norton snarled. 

There was the clanking sound of metal and Norton hurriedly scurried outside and saw that the containers to which they used to gather water had fallen upon the parched land. He thought that there might be someone nearby. He did not consider much as he retreated back with the shovel in hand.

Three days later, when Norton returned late from a bad mining trip, he received rumours of Doctor Thompson being found dead in his home and Luchino, who had disappeared without a trace. He found his house set aflame. His old man, burnt alive, as he could not run because of his bad back. The flames were merciless. Dried wood and cotton could nothing to disperse the hell, and smoke billowed into the air. 

Benny, his father’s old pal, came to comfort him.

“They caught that blabbering lunatic!” Cried Benny. “Indeed, he was half-burnt, but he was stating how your father had a treasure map and that he proceeded to burn it. That lunatic attempted to stop him, but he threw gasoline into the flames instead of water! Can you believe that ridiculous story? I would rather say that man is possessed! I'm really sorry for your old man.”

And Norton stood in silence, shaking at every limb, a bloody lip, each of his nerve unstrung. He wasn’t quite sure anymore.

* * *

With a fair and strong breeze, the vessel had set sail. The sea was calm, but Naib was with great uneasiness. 

Vera Nair had called them for tea, but it seemed Norton was asleep in his room, Jose was steering the ship and Kurt marking their navigations and destinations. Hence it was left with the lady, him, Jack and Xie Bi An, who was apparently uninvited. Upon further observation, Xie Bi An’s countenance was pale even to ghastliness and his deep-set almost inhuman red eyes glared with unnatural lustre at Jack. He had claimed to be albino earlier, but Naib found his explanation to no satisfaction.

It was as if there was a lack of human in that man, though Naib deigned to press on with the issue. Vera Nair looked sorely uncomfortable; she too had not expected Xie Bi An to come on board with them. However, she had no say in the matter, for Naib had inferred that vessel must have belonged to him.

“I will have to take my leave now.” She announced, her tone slightly strained, but she maintained a cool façade on her face. “I am feeling rather feverish from the morning heat.”

Naib quickly stood up to kiss her hand, and to say the truth, found not the slightest indication of a fever. If anything, her hand was warm and fragrant. Jack pulled him away when he stood a second too long and Naib quickly replied in order for Vera Nair to make no notice of the strange action.

“Have a good rest.” Said Naib.

Vera Nair nodded. She was silent and she walked away daintily.

“Well, are we to continue the afternoon tea?” Xie Bi An chuckled. “You are not well-dressed for the sea, detective.”

“I- well, it is the only outfit I have.” Said Naib and bit his lip for the unnecessary information.

“Bi An, that is none of your business.” Jack snapped. He was in a foul mood ever since and had refused to leave Naib’s side ever since his encounter with Xie Bi An.

“You cannot wear this. You are said to be the one detective that London needs. That…they all need.” Said Bi An, as he pulled his wrist. “Come, we shall prepare a good outfit for you.”

Jack slammed his fist on the table, and Naib jumped in shock. That man often had a good temper, but to Xie Bi An, his fuse was awfully short. “Seriously, Bi An-”

“Mr Svengali.” They turned to see Vera Nair by the entrance. It had seemed she might have not immediately left after all. “Would you help me fix my headdress?”

Jack swerved his head to look at Xie Bi An once more, who just emitted a cunning smile, before he rose from his seat. “Of course, Miss Nair.” Said Jack, whose dark eyes never left the gaze of Xie Bi An, interlocked and fighting a battle of unsaid dominance. “Who am I to refuse a dear lady?”

“Stay away from him.” Jack whispered to him.

“I can care for myself.” Said Naib. “Besides, it is just wearing clothes. Not the battlefield, and I have been on the battlefield.”

Jack frowned heavily. “Just make it quick. Bi An is dangerous…”

Naib thought that things from war were just the tip of an iceberg. There was a dark society looming behind, and it was nothing human. They knew their every move, and it was apparent, for the entirety of every ‘coincidental’ meeting he had since he arrived in London.

This time, Norton was hiding something. He had a hunch too. That man who avoided all the dangerous things would wish to traverse to Africa when he had known nothing about the country? 

He wondered if Eli had known all this while and he would question him for good the next time.

“Where are the clothes?” Naib asked, and Xie Bi An finally stood from the chair. 

"Follow me." Said the Chinese man. 


	21. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush [IV]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a monster to write. Happy belated Birthday, Naibean.   
> Warnings ahead. It might uncomfortable at some point. Naib will get down to it in a bit.   
> Thank you all for your support >< I may not reply to each and every one of your comments as I am usually busy and I keep it to the most recent chapters I see, but I appreciate them all! I am so happy if you guys enjoyed this self-indulgent fic of mine ;;

**The Strange Case of Norton Campbell [IV]**

When he first entered the cabin, Naib found it hard not be envious of his condition. When he had served in the army, he only laid on dirt ground which smelt of rust and gunpowder. Where he lived in the small town, he only slept in the stables. 

Now he saw soft Persian carpets which lined the parquet wood, old furniture, perfect of its kind and rare china displayed on the racks. The cushions were plump and soft, and Naib believed it to be filled with goose feathers and cotton. Expensive foreign shelving lined the interior perimeter and Naib found that he might just soil the room by standing in it.

“Do come in.” Said Xie Bi An, who gingerly offered him a bundled package. “Change into these.”

He then lightly shut the cabin door.

“Hound?” Naib wondered as he read the words on the package.

“You’re like a puppy.” Said Xie Bi An again, with a small smile then only seemed all mocking towards the other. Naib barely shifted in his countenance, as he tried to regain his tolerance for the other man. He thought to change to a different topic.

“Am I to change in front of you?” Asked Naib sardonically as he raised a questioning brow. Xie Bi An had taken into his favourite position, which Naib had assumed, considering his relaxed demeanor and comfortable sigh as he settled near a mantelpiece.

Bloody cabin even had a fireplace! Naib frowned irritably, whereas theirs in the agency barely worked. Xie Bi An sported a taunting smirk and Naib knew that man was watching him intently. He quickly reeled away, back against the cabin door.

Xie Bi An looked complacently around the cabin before saying. “What you see here are just a mere bit of my possessions, dear detective. There are more of what I own in London and China.”

“Fancy.” Naib replied dryly.

“You can change behind that coromandel screen over there.” Xie Bi An gestured towards an ebony folding screen with panels of incised black lacquer, painted with a beautiful mix of gold, black and bronze. Upon closer inspection, on it were also decorated with jade and other semiprecious stones. The art finely detailed the landscape of what he presumed was another country, with strange thin leaves, inky mountains and splotchy trails of what he assumed to look like rivers.

“It’s China.” Said Xie Bi An. “Beautiful, beautiful China.” He added with a touch of melancholy, and strangely, a sense of spite. It was then he heard a thud, and saw that the umbrella which Xie Bi An placed by the side of his armchair with such unusual care earlier, had fallen.

Xie Bi An then picked it up and caressed the handle, whispering gentle phrases of a foreign language, presumably mandarin. Naib stood there, stunned as he watched him.

“Are you going to change?” Xie Bi An suddenly spoke up, looking slightly amused at Naib. 

“Oh.” Naib felt like a goldfish, mouth hanging slightly agape. When the man shifted in his position, Naib was snapped back to reality and he rushed behind the panel.

“Excuse me then-”

It was then there was a rap on the door. Xie Bi An looked slightly confounded, as he approached the visitor. Much to his surprise, Naib saw Norton standing by the doorway, looking absolutely flustered. 

“I’ve been asked by uhhh… the captain to look for you.” Norton’s eyes darted from Xie Bi An to Naib’s. Naib could tell he was trying to look imposing, for Norton was not slouching as he stood, like he usually would.

“Jose?” Naib questioned as he figured it might be a ploy. Still, he went along with Norton. “Unfortunately, I may have business to attend to, Xie Bi An-Sir.”

“Wuchang will do, Mr Subedar.” Xie Bi An smiled hauntingly. “What a pity, it seems that we won’t be able to witness a beautiful thing tonight.”

“Beautiful-?”

Before Naib could respond, he was harshly tugged away by Norton back to his cabin. Norton did not let go of his vice-like grip until he reached the destination, even Naib was appalled by that man’s sudden strength. 

“That’s close.” Norton panted. “Too close. I seriously hate that guy.”

“Did I tell him my name?” Naib pondered aloud.

“Wuchang knows a lot of things.” Norton hissed. “Naib, for your sanity and mine. Stay away from him.”

“Jack said the same thing too… Anyway, you are more jittery than ever.” Naib observed as he watched his friend paced about the room. “Anything happened just now?”

“No, ‘cept that Wuchang has an eye on you! To be honest, I rather you have that drunk woman Demi having an eye on you over him. Dammit, why am I tasked with this?” Norton snapped and swore some derogatory words. “Balsa told me-”

“Aye Naib, I cannot deny you have a fine ass. You do realise a coromandel screen near a fireplace means that your silhouette would be seen right?” Both swerved their heads to the direction of the familiar voice. Naib was beside with disbelief as he watched that man who was apparently seated on his armchair and that his grimy fingers were rubbing against the fabric. Norton jumped up in fright, not expecting a third man in the room.

“Right, I doubt you knew. Anyway, I’m telling ya, Jack is gonna’ spill blood when he finds out.” Luca said as he munched on cupcakes which were quite similar to the ones on the tea table. Norton raised a disgusted look and mouthed about how “that rat was able to find so much food everywhere” as Naib flushed red.

“So don’t go mentioning anything today-”

“How are you in every cabin?!” Shrieked Norton eventually.

“I accidentally came in.” Replied Luca candidly.

“It clearly states that this my cabin.” Naib coughed to regain his composure before frowning. “My name plate is on the front door.”

“Ah, it is?” Luca feigned innocence.

“No point arguing.” Naib sighed, rubbing his temples. “As much as I would not wish to associate with Wuchang. He is right. I do not move well in this outfit when it gets too warm hence I agreed to take on his offer. Also, both of you-”

It was then Naib realised that both Norton and Luca were clad in different outfits. Luca bore a ragtag appearance; was in a dirty brown collared sleeved outfit and stained khaki pants that looked too good for blending into his surroundings. It seemed that the other might have given much thought on his outfit despite his seemingly careless nature. 

As for Norton, he had already taken off his vest and replaced it with a yellow shirt and suspenders. His deerstalker had been modified to hold items which consisted a small light and a chisel. On his waist, an old, rusted compass hung like a deadweight.

“You’re the only one ill-dressed, Naib.” Luca teased with a hum. Norton then assumed a boorish guffaw. “Oh god! Were you after all planning to go to Africa in a trench coat-”

“I am changing!” Naib flushed angrily as he pushed them both out of his cabin.

* * *

“Well. He is alright.” Said Luca, whistling. “There’s no need to be so hyped up about him. Besides, it is Naib who can deliver a stronger punch than any of us here.”

“Did Eli tell you anything else?” Norton narrowed his eyes as Luca grinned mysteriously, his canine tooth poking beneath at the corner of his lip where a faint scar remained evident.

“We need to watch out for Naib.” Said the other finally. Luca then halted his steps abruptly, as he glanced at Norton ruefully. “Who is this Arthur Russell, Nortie?”

Norton seemed to be in particular state of restlessness as he fidgeted uneasily. “Someone…which Morton said to be careful around.”

“Morton? The only Morton I've heard of among our circle is Mike Morton.” Luca pursed his lips when he saw Norton's expression. “Hah. This is complex. Not a thing for an amnesiac.”

“Balsa. You did not simply break out of jail on your own, did you?” Continued Norton frankly.

“Nortie.” Luca suddenly stared at him with a perfectly blank and rigid face, the face of one who seemed to be in the grip of a mysterious malady. “Some things are not meant to be said. I know you insisted to bring Naib here because Eli mentioned about something dangerous, no? And yet, you also have your own goals.”

“I thought you were a crackhead, Balsa.” Said Norton with a strange low voice. “I did some digging. Your research invention has partially something to do with the prenatural, no? Yidhra…Rashomon… That was probably why they came to you. I know you probably don’t remember shit, but at least, you should know that much- whatever you've been doing in our attic.”

Luca smiled drolly. “Nortie, you are such a terrible romantic. Filling with me with donuts and now saying this?”

“I am not dumb, you damn rat. Enough playing the jester.” Norton snarled.

“What are you after?” Said Luca.

“Money.” Said Norton simply.

* * *

It was a good mile walk to the mouth of the mine. They had to rise before dawn to get there before any prying eye. They walked by starlight, their face tapestries of shadow. The air is often cold; colder in the winter, each is conscious of walking through the other’s exhalations of thick wispy whites.

“You sure it’s here, kiddo?” One of them paused, snorted but without vile.

“Aye, I’m sure after this. We will all strike rich.” Norton grinned deviously. “No more beatings or extra hours or thin soup and breadcrumbs.” 

“Sorry son. You always took the brunt of the beatings and helping us on our shifts…I cannot thank you enough.” One of them said apologetically.

“No worries, sir.” Norton chuckled with a hollow laugh, but his laughter was too flat to make out his emotion and it was too dark to see any expression of his face. “My old man was a miner like yer all and it is only natural to help one another in need. I am really glad you all have decided to join me in this expedition and leave the other mine.”

It was all human nature to greed and slave at the thought of fortune. He knew that each one of them had an ulterior motive. He knew they gave obvious lies each time to their employer, who never really liked Norton because his wife wouldn’t keep her sullied hands behind her, and Norton had to take each and every one of his accusations.

But he wouldn’t give it up.

Thirteen addresses and this was the final one after years of hard work. It wasn’t easy gathering a group of miners.

They arrived at the pit. The pit mouth gapes, a lipless hole, emitting belly smells like dyspeptic beast. They were miners, but they had not expected sickness raging in their stomachs, bile raising up to their throats. It seemed almost cursed, if not for the fact, they knew it got hit by a meteor strike that left it in such a depilated manner.

They went down using thin ropes, unsteady at their feet, the walls damp and slippery. As Norton descended, he could hear water falling alongside him and something alike fear inhibited his body. Dynamite sticks and detonators wouldn’t work too well if they needed to make their way through. When he touched ground, it was ankle-deep in water. Norton, pale, eyes torn open in the gloom lighted his candle which flickered unsteadily.

He did the count lazily; he had to, he still needed them.

They walked along old rail tracks, walking in a drawn-out procession. Half the time, Norton imagined an image of a mine cart bearing down on them, for it was too narrow to step away to safety. Low tunnels branched off from time to time, but there was nothing in sight. No colliers, no beam of light, no carts and no single breath of life. There were still physical signs of man-made structures, with rusted steel beams bent into odd shapes and draping lines which Norton presumed that they were supposed to hold the lights.

Beyond, the tunnel narrowed, the ceiling lowered and lowered. The steel supports gave way to crooked timbers, in which the wood looked soft and rotted from the water running through. He knew they were heading in downward spiral.

“Are we moving on?” One of them asked.

“Only if the kid goes in first.” One of them smirked.

“Of course.” Said Norton, who only smiled ever graciously. He carried on, bent double, panting heavily. In these mines, they were often of a different climate. The air was cold and clammy, and smelt of mould and rot.

Yet this was his only shot.

At long last, they reached a dead end. Or what seemed to be a route piled over by boulders which had collapsed in the event of the meteor strike. A strange noise permeated the atmosphere and Norton noted it sounded like the screams of the dying animals in the slaughterhouse. He felt a faint stream of air.

“Should we blow the way up?” Some miner asked. They had set the detonator up in here.

“No.” Said Norton as he felt about the rocks. “The cave structure is too loose.”

There, he found it.

A cut that led through the wall of the rubble, so narrow he had to squeeze through sideways and twisting in uncomfortable positions before shifting each foot inch by inch forward. He stumbled out in a daze and collapsed into a low tunnel. And there the cavern was different. Its philistine interior shimmered a strange amethyst and rare gemstones seen on an aristocrat’s jewelry poked out like little flower buds in spring.

“Holy yes! We struck rich!” He heard an exclamation as each of the filthy miners poured into the cavern.

Making an ugly face which was shadowed by his helmet, Norton then turned with a smile before pacing about the mine. There he felt it, the same intense vibration he touched years ago. Those magnets, did they come from here?

Was he at that rumoured helix mine?

With no thought, he pocketed the magnets. He then swerved around to glance at the gemstones, the greedy miners and paced forward quickly towards the sound of water. On the bed of the underground lake, instead of gravel and stone were huge nuggets of gold. Gulping, he steadied his shaking hand to reach it before he heard a shriek and scampered over.

“What’s that?!”

There he saw a strange creature. With its long body, obsidian scales and a head which resembled a Black Mamba, it stepped lazily over a gemstone with an unrecognizable inscription upon it. No, Norton blinked in terror, that was a Black Mamba- a snake with legs.

He recalled in his mind a certain Professor Duquein Thompson.

Then he heard screams. Behind the rocks, people emerged. No, they weren’t people. Norton wanted to cry in unbridled terror, but no voice came out. More of living corpses! Charcoal skin flaking off them, revealing soot, flesh and scales fused together; their disheveled long hair hung like thin strands of moldy yarn and their eyes darted about with an inhuman glow. They were in rags and their brittle flesh shook at every step they took, a pickaxe dragging behind.

“You led us to this!” One of the miners cried and brought down a heavy blow on his head with a shovel. Norton collapsed onto the floor, feeling exhausted and white spots in vision, as he heard the scampering of feet. He thought he heard the roars of nothing animal this mother earth ever knew, bellowing in his ears like the seven trumpets, before he fully blacked out.

He found himself unharmed in the same position when he roused shortly after, a deep throbbing in his head. He still heard the panic cries and he wondered how he remained unscathed. But he spied the living corpses climbing from god knows where in the distance and quickly got on his feet to run. He struggled out from the cut in the rubble and back to the low tunnels. His candle was running out and his gas lamp was too wet to be lit. He barely could see as he ambled his way through in mindless chaos. From stumbling bent over, he found himself to be on fours soon enough, crawling his way as much as his strength willed him.

He heard strange hisses snaking up on his nape and he shuddered when he found a breath to close to it. Norton flipped over and saw one of the corpses above him. The dull glow of the candle made her seemed monstrous and frightening beyond any human imagination Her eerie smile stretching beyond any human means and her eyes- her eyes did not belong to a human. This, he knew that much.

Norton delivered a sharp kick, before getting up to run. The rough movements had worn his belts and caused it to tear, causing his legs to get tangled and he scrambled about, only to collide hard with the detonator. At that moment, time seemed to slow. Norton could hear the other miners struggling to get out, shouting, yelling terrible remarks, their huge bags of precious jewels jingling as they ran.

Even if Norton cried, they wouldn’t come and save him. He noted the corpses squeezing themselves out from the cut in the rubble.

He didn’t think twice when he pushed the detonator.

Everything just burned, burned, burned.

The smell of burning flesh was apparent in his nostrils and it seared his arm and back. He thought his skin and hair melted away while his bones get crushed by the rocks and stalactites. He was wide awake throughout the entire process, under the water, where he was accidentally blown into a small trench with a little space for air. he heard their all their confused cries, for the explosion rushed like a fiery tornado throughout and the sound of every structure of the accursed mine giving in.

They would never climb out in time.

And then Norton, bloodied, battered and burnt, remained trapped in that trench, unable to move and taking in small gulps of air.

“Help…me…”

* * *

Norton jolted out from his sleep. Sweat beads evident on his forehead. The sea was calm tonight, yet his mind raced in utter chaos. He limped towards the bucket of water.

“Hell.” He swore as he pressed a cold towel to his scar tissue. “Why am I remembering all this now? Why is it all coming back to me?”

He should have stayed in damn dirty London. 

But there was always a force which compelled the individual. Norton thought he might be going insane. 


	22. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush [V]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late chapters. My school semester just ended, but I have vacation classes. I am trying my best to upload more frequently again. At least back to once a week. Thank you for your patience and support! Vera and Wuchang's birthday and character day have all passed, but I truly enjoyed it! I love every character! Please take care, everybody! Thank you all for your support. Japan's COA tournaments are great! Someone used Madeyes and got a four-man win. Mad respect-- 
> 
> In my opinion, Luca does not have any regard for social rules and I like to think of it that way as he interacts with others in his quirky manner.   
> I update my statuses on twitter! Tora Eli is my spirit animal.

**The Strange Case of Norton Campbell [V]**

She rose and stared into the mirror which was a rare asset, as it was made of the clearest reflective glass of its time. She examined herself critically and without prejudice. Oval face, fair hair still bright, violet eyes glistening, chin still firm, her beauty mark visible- everything that Vera Nair was. She picked up a powder puff and used it delicately for the slight shadows that were visible beneath her eyes. She must keep up her appearances as Vera Nair.

Tonight, Luca Balsa, for whatever reason going on in that mad man’s head, had decided to pay her a short visit and quite evidently, make up for what he couldn’t eat during dinner. 

“One might think it would rude to ask a lady what are her intentions, but you see, Vera Nair-” Luca Balsa spoke as he slurped down a mouthful of red wine nosily, in which earlier he had sloshed it around in the glass like grape juice; nothing of resemblance to his past wealthy ancestries, but more like a drunken boorish thug. “I am no longer a gentleman, aristocrat, whatever you rich people like to say.”

As if to prove his point, he burped loudly and proceeded to stuff the slices of brie cheese into his mouth, picking one, two, three slices at a go with the pick. One side of his cheek, on the left, was especially purple and swollen. He had not bothered to patch it up when he had visited and when it was puffed up with food, he looked like a chipmunk with a bad case of tumour. 

Vera Nair visibly twitched an eyebrow at his crass actions but did not address it and just looked on distastefully. 

“You speak my name as if you have a conundrum regarding… certain things.” Said Vera Nair at last, who could no longer tolerate Luca’s poor eating etiquette.

“I am not blind.” Replied Luca, his eyes clear and they were fixated upon her.

Each time they converse, Vera Nair would notice the change in him. Luca Balsa was no longer the confident, outspoken and prodigious inventor of his generation. He was said to be the next Alexander Graham Bell, the next Thomas Edison, having a so-called bright future until he was framed of a murder he never committed, or at least, she assumed he never committed. Luca was now cynical, suspicious, looser of speech, habit and self-restraint. He became a different man, not that she ever wanted to inquire deeper into it to confirm her observations.

But all at the same time, she knew that Luca Balsa of the past was just a mere persona. Balsa was now free of his hierarchy shackles, free of society.

“Of course.” She finally replied after a moment’s hesitation. “Lady Nightingale…requested me to manufacture ‘Euphoria’. It is of dire necessity, and therefore I am sent on this mission.”

“No, no. My dear lady.” Luca snapped irritably as he popped a grape into his mouth, its juice splattering about as he spoke. “You know what I mean. What is ‘Euphoria’?”

Vera Nair felt the roof of her mouth growing dry. She closed her eyes, her long lashes dusting the thick powders just beneath her eyelid, which she used to conceal her nightmares. “It is a perfume to forget. If I perfect it, it can erase memories.”

“That Nightingale, to maintain control and order in London, wants to erase memories of the ‘Red Plague’ among the upper echelons at the very least.” Luca snorted. “The Manor Owner also have the more control over the police force, after Jack’s case. Soon it will be the Press. How vapid.” 

“Why is a mercenary a detective?” Vera Nair asked hastily, not wishing the attention for a topic she considered taboo any longer. “Why must I go to him?”

“Why is Wuchang your bodyguard?” Luca retorted. “Of all Hunters, it had to be that sly merchant who controls a third of the Black Market.”

“I had not a choice in this.” Said Vera Nair defensively. “Rather, I was not informed. I believed he volunteered himself however.”

“Then why do you not think Naib Subedar the same as you?” Concluded Luca. “It was all a ruse, I believe, but he was unexpectedly good in the detective work. Eli Clark admits as well. Perhaps it might have something to with his past, perhaps he’s seen something that he shouldn’t have, and he’s all forgotten about it. He doesn’t know that someone nasty is after him, I presume.”

_At least that was what dear Eli said._

Luca whistled whimsically but winced upon hurting his bad cheek.

“Eventually, I am just a runaway criminal. My words hold not weight, honey. There is no need to fear me. I think you would know by now. They would never believe the words of a lunatic. You knew that, so you dare confess to me anyway.” 

Vera Nair stood up and moved to the cupboard, taking out a box of cigarettes. She nodded smilingly as she handed him a box. “Care for a smoke?” 

“Aye. It’s a rather eventful start to the journey.” Luca took a cigar immediately and lit it up.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. What happened to your upper cheek? You ate as if you had no reservations, hence I did not raise my concerns. It is still all swollen.” Said Vera Nair.

“Well, Nortie punched me. I pried too deeply. He isn’t very open on some things. Not quite like you.” said Luca slowly, puffing his cigar. “Frankly, my conundrum is what to address you right now.”

“Why!” She stepped towards him; but half-way, swaying in slight hopelessness. The sides of her eyes prickled with wetness, but she reigned it all in. This was wonderful, she thought, how she could control herself so well all this time. “You were the only one who saw through everything. Ironically, Luca Balsa, the infamous lunatic, as you were called by the aristocrats! Only the mad man sees the truth.”

Luca flinched in surprise when he felt an ice cube pressed upon his injured cheek, a sweet aroma wafting into his nostrils.

“Just ‘Miss Nair’ will do.” She whispered coyly.

Chloe Nair, the crazy sister, the black sheep of the family, who was murdered in the basement from a burglary. A small portion in the news was written for her, due to her twin sister’s reputation as a famous Perfumer. 

No condolences were really offered, just a bouquet of fresh white lilies, from her sister who never shed a single tear for her. 

Yet, only the mad man saw the truth.

* * *

“You look like shit.” Said Naib when he encountered Norton in the hallway, who stumbled clumsily, unable to properly rest from the fumes of the nightmares which plagued him the last night.

“Good morning, Naib. Nice clothes.” Norton cracked a broken smile, his arm trembling against the wall. “Just a little seasick.” 

Naib scratched at his black outfit, which resembled a suit, yet Naib knew that it was not the uncomfortable material of those suits which were cut too tight and the edges chaffing skin. On the contrary, it was cooling, quite stretchable and fitted him comfortably. Although, Naib thought sullenly, he really did not want to know how Xie Bi An had such obtained such accurate measurements for the outfit to fit him so well.

Norton had presented a pitiable appearance, lacking the vigour and countenance that he usually sported. 

“Thank you.” Said Naib instead. From war and battle, he knew the eyes of the haunted and Norton’s deep dark orbs spoke many tales. But he too knew, to not simply pry secrets from this man, as he glanced on his fists which were tensed and clenched tightly.

“I hope you rest well for today. Leave the inquiring of the case to me.” Added Naib.

Norton nodded stiffly, scratched the stubble on his chin and retired back to his cabin. Naib made sure of that; he had watched the man amble to his abode. It was strange to see a big and handsome man so fearful and almost paranoid, it was as if Norton was like him, having an encounter beyond a human explanation.

As if Norton was himself? Naib shook his head violently. There was something hallow gnawing in his chest, as if the realisation that something was missing struck him deep and reverberated in his soul. And a deep voice uttered, so lulling, so cruel, so unfamiliar like the one that belonged to a demon.

_Dear Naib. Whenever you met something of supernatural occurrence, had you ever thought why you kept pushing those thoughts of doubt away?_

Naib snapped his eyes open, as beads of perspiration dabbed the sides of his temple. He felt himself instinctively folding over with nausea and his knees buckled with a strange weight. He could not hear the sea waves crashing onto the ship or the smell of rust and sea salt which were thick in the air. Desperately, he wished for the scent of cypress trees.

“Mr Subedar!” A voice jolted him from his thoughts.

He swerved around and saw Kurt, who waved to him frantically. “Miss Nair is already waiting on the upper deck. We can discuss how we are going to handle things once we hit shore!”

“Of course.” Naib tried to keep his voice composed. Somehow, the bad thought was forgotten easily, and he was able to continue his way as per normal. He did not ask himself again. 

* * *

Vera Nair looked strange. He wasn’t sure if it was the extra layer of foundation on her face or the glint in her eyes.

“You look handsome today, Mr Subedar.” Vera Nair greeted as Naib proceeded to kiss her hand, as a form of greeting. “Where is Mister Campbell?”

“Thank you, and my partner, is slightly unwell. A little seasick.” Said Naib.

“I do hope he recovers soon! Would you like some tea?” Vera Nair then asked.

“Coffee, dark.” Said Naib.

“Dark?” Vera Nair replied in surprise. “You mean black coffee. No milk, no sugar?”

“Ah yes.” Said Naib, feeling a sudden flush on his cheeks. Somehow, Eli knew what he had meant the first time. Hence, he never considered twice. “My apologies, I wasn’t really taught-”

He thought that the discrimination might come in again, like how he would never be part of the English and that he never would. But Vera Nair, to his surprise, said no such thing. 

“No worries.” Vera Nair instead waved for a servant to come over and brought the drinks and breakfast, which consisted of toast, eggs and sausages. It was a scrumptious meal, something mouth-watering which graced his taste buds and he was almost not expecting such treatment on sea. He devoured the meal almost immediately, as he tried to hide his salivating. Kurt too, was similar and only Vera ate in small bites, just a like a lady of her class would. 

It was not as if he were not being fed well at the agency, but honestly, he would prefer to have a change from the daily oatmeal Emma makes due to stringent budgeting. 

“When we reach upon land, Mr Frank here will lead us to meet a local guide.” Vera Nair begun, dabbing a napkin on her lips.

“Indeed. I may have travelled many miles, but a local guide would be best for us. After all, we are talking about a secretive merchant and a gold mine.” Kurt explained.

“I am aware of the strange requests of the merchant mentioned and I am fully prepared to face them.” Naib said in reassurance. 

“Thank you.” Said Vera Nair with a slight bow. “Do not worry. Mister Xie and Mister Svengali will come along to aid us. Mister Xie is well-versed with trading, having hailed from the East and familiar with overseas negotiation, while Mister Svengali, despite being a barber, is a quite an intellect himself.”

It was then Captain Jose Baden had appeared by the side of the railings and called for Vera Nair to come over. She sheepishly excused herself and apologized for her discourteous action before daintily stepping away from the table.

Perhaps it might have the urgent issues of where to dock the ship or the legal statements. Naib dryly observed their interactions and noticed a strange gait of Baden’s where he swung his left arm as if it were heavy. It looked nothing natural from the way the fingers froze in place and it seemed not like a glove.

He then recalled that Kurt Frank was an explorer and quickly pushed thoughts of Baden away as he had wanted to inquire an issue which was on his mind for a while.

“Have you been to this land called A-me-ri-ca, Mister Frank?” Naib asked.

“America? Yes. Oh, please just do call me Kurt!” Replied Kurt heartily.

“Then please just address me as Naib.”

Naib recalled that sometimes Norton spoke in a different English accent, from time to time. He had brought up the issue to Eli, who told him that Norton most likely hailed from America. A place for foolish people, he was told by the Generals. They wanted independence from the Great Britain.

He never thought that way, however. How good it would be if Nepal was independent too. They would not have to be involved in wars that did not involve them. 

His thoughts drifted to back to Norton; the insolent and crass Norton who hated cramped places and yet claimed himself to be a great prospector, looking for a gold mine or a mine filled with riches? Naib thought that it would be possible that he might have been caught in a collapsing mine or a cave. He knew of fellow soldiers who were frightened of loud noises after being exposed to the artillery in war.

“Are there any stories of a mine or cave collapsing when you explored America?” He looked at Kurt, who seemed not much older than him or Norton. If Kurt had traveled to America in his adult years, he would have at least heard some sensational stories.

“You are sharp, Naib.” Kurt chuckled. He then started in a low whisper as he leaned closer towards the man. “You know I was unsure at first, but now I feel I might have read of Mister Campbell somewhere. I was visiting a place which spoke of a strange helix mine. It was the local news, but it died quickly…as if someone sought to cover the truth of it all.”

Naib sensed a foreboding in his heart, but he still listened on, nodding his head in agitation.

“That time, the mine had collapsed. It was already unstable from the time a large meteorite rock had struck it, so I wasn’t quite surprised. I was really looking forward to exploring it, however, as it was said to have untold amount of riches and secrets. Later, I heard from locals that it was the base of a cult. Either way… when the mine collapsed, there were a group of miners who were illegally in there and they were all caught in the fallen debris. One survived however, found by local dogs, and was severely scarred from burnt wounds. They believed it was he who had placed explosives in the mine and detonated them to make way. However, he refused any treatment and disappeared the day he was pulled out.” Said Kurt. 

Kurt continued. “He was trapped for ten days apparently and as he disappeared almost immediately, they weren’t able to file any reports on it. He had burns everywhere, nearly blinded in an eye and he only told the locals his surname, common as any other surname in America. Crazy guy, they say, he was able to limp out smiling like a maniac and walking his way as if he had never been hurt or starved and dehydrated for ten days.”

“Campbell.” Said Naib.

“Indeed.” Kurt responded with an air of profound seriousness. “When I returned to inquire more the next week, strangely enough… the locals pretended that this case never existed… Curious, I was, but their eyes seemed strangely black and possessed. They stare at me as like snakes.”

Kurt shuddered. “And so, I left.”

“I guess I can bet on this.” Naib murmured in deep thought. 

Kurt quickly grasped Naib’s hand tightly before nervously saying. “I long to say, however. That gold mine, why no one returned… they said there is a monster there. Half man- half lizard. He attacks whoever dares to venture that mine. I suggest you tell Mister Campbell here…to ease off his search.”

“Are you sure?” Naib narrowed his eyes.

“Why, I wouldn’t lie. The local guide warned me. They saw people being hacked and disemboweled by pickaxes and then thrown at the mouth of the mine.” Said Kurt.

“Gentlemen?”

They both raised their heads to see Vera Nair looking at them in the most confused manner.

“I was just showing off my travel collection to Naib here, Miss Nair.” Kurt laughed hurriedly as he scampered away from Naib.

“Indeed. They were rather fine.” Added Naib as he adjusted his red tie.

Vera Naib gave them a hollow smile in acknowledgement and all three continued with their meal, chatting lightly.

* * *

Luca Balsa, who was near the vent, had unwittingly heard it all. A food tray was wheeled near him and he was munching blandly on dried bread and eggs. He longed to reach for the sausages which were placed on the higher level, but all four people kept moving about and he could not have shown himself so openly.

“I put on those hearing aids I made to watch for the perfect opportunity to snag breakfast. In the end, I knew something I shouldn’t have known. Is this called a one-up, Nortie?” Said Luca as he scattered the crumbs to the seagulls. “It’s scary how dear Eli can be so right sometimes about you, but… ah first let me grab that German sausage.” 


	23. The Witwatersrand Gold Rush [VI]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster to write...monster to write... I don't know any sea terms. Please don't quote me on this... Thank you for being patient all this while! Thank you for all your support! I appreciate all the comments! I feel bad for the delays. But! I am not the best at geography and about ships and latitudes and how the sea works so I had to research on it! I am so sorry if it's inaccurate!! Happy Belated Birthday, Jose! It has been dark, I shall make it humorous in this chapter. Seems more adventure now, but it will back to old London after this case!

**The Strange Case of Norton Campbell (VI)**

For two weeks, there was smooth sail. They were on course and even proceeding ahead of schedule. It was only on the sixteenth day where Naib noticed a portion of the sails were secured, but there were no dark clouds looming ahead in the distance, the gale was gentle, and the weather still looked clear for the sky was azure.

“I wouldn’t know.” Said Xie Bi An when Naib had inquired him. He was coincidentally on deck, or at least Naib assumed that; he was always there whenever Naib wanted to have a breath of fresh air.

“I am just a mere merchant, having no knowledge of the seas.” He smiled deviously, cunning fox-like eyes narrowing into silts once more.

“Then perhaps you can escort yourself downstairs where you can file some paperwork or whatever.” Jack growled; all gentlemanly mannerisms forgotten as he pulled Naib closer to him. Jack had not been pleased upon learning the gift that Xie Bi An had prepared for Naib, and insisted once they are back to London, he would purchase him new clothes at once.

“An entire wardrobe is too much!” Naib gaped when he saw Jack penning down a letter to send to a tailor back in London.

“No darling, anything to shred that cloth to bits.” Jack replied with a smile that Naib cannot seem to refute as he kept tugging on his fabric like a petulant child.

Back to the situation at hand, the Chinese man seemed rather irritated with Jack’s gestures as he continued sipping on a cup of Pu-erh tea undaunted. “I love the smell of sea-salt.” Said Xie Bi An, whose eyes seemed to take on a hostile glow every passing second.

“Oh really?” Jack mocked vindictively. “Surely your skin would shrivel instead from the sea salt?”

“Perhaps you should be more concerned over your balding forehead, radish.” Xie Bi An retorted, the accent his voice thickening to something menacing.

“Radish? And you’re the eastern twigs!” Jack’s voice rose a tone.

“Eastern twigs?” Cried Xie Bi An in horror. “Those are chopsticks, you uncultured swine!”

Naib, who could not stand their childish…spat (which seemed to reduce to nothing coherent anymore and he wondered how those two were even fearsome individuals in the first place) any further, excused himself without a sound and headed towards the cabin where Jose would be. He found it discourteous if he should seek Vera Nair, a fine lady for her class, for such a trivial matter. Kurt was out of his options as the shorter male had told him earlier that he would retire to his cabin for an afternoon nap. Norton had rarely left his cabin nowadays and as for Luca, Naib had not gotten any closer to the eccentric man.

“We are close to the coast I presume.” Said Jose, barely looking from a map that had faded yellow, even before Naib asked his question. One hand remained busy fiddling with instruments that laid scattered on the table, and the other hung uselessly beside him. It was almost rigid, fingers fixed in a position. “-about negative 28th degree of latitude- we are heading towards the South of Africa.”

Naib blinked as Jose murmured several seaman terms which he was unfamiliar with, but he somewhat grasped the situation hanging by the ends of the threads that they were reaching to their desired destination. “It’s been barely past two weeks.” Naib was aghast. “How are we travelling so quickly?”

“Ask that Chinese merchant, I presume. Those shady Eastern merchants always have something up their sleeves.” Jose shrugged as he lazily hobbled to few bottles of alcohol. Now that he stood upright, Naib could see that his clothes were dishevelled and barely buttoned up. Jose had blamed it on the suffocating heat. His chest was a shade of salmon pink, up to his nape, littered with hair and freckles.

“Say, you’re a detective?” Jose muttered after gulping a few mouthfuls of cheap booze.

“Yes.” Naib looked curiously outside the only window in the cabin, which was a round glass panel bolted tightly onto a metal wall. It was mid-day, but the man was drinking as if it was night and he did not seem to be sober on the wheel.

“I hadn’t caught your name.” Said Jose.

“Subedar. Naib Subedar.” Naib replied firmly. He was sure he had introduced himself much earlier before he boarded the vessel, but it was evident that Jose had not committed any names into memory.

“I heard something about a Subedar solving the ripper’s case that plagued the streets from almost a year. They said you took less than a week to solve it. Amazing.” Said Jose without hesitation, as if he had not downed a few pints earlier. It was almost scary how the man managed to speak to him with such alacrity, that Naib found himself flinching when Jose leaned in closer.

He raised his hands instinctively. “Please, I do not suit such flattery-”

“It may be unprofessional of me.” Interrupted Jose in grave manner as the sunlight reflected on his mismatched eyes, making them sparkled like gems and one might say that Naib might have caught a glimpse of the man in his better days. A bright lad with his father, loving the sea.

“But might you take up a private case on the way here? I promise I would compensate you handsomely.”

Naib was at a loss for words.

Jose added upon seeing the man’s reaction. “It is not wrong for a detective to take upon more than one case, no?”

“No, Eli said nothing about it. I will listen to yours but do listen to my concerns as well.” Said Naib.

“Very well.” Jose resumed to his half-lidded gaze as he smiled wearily. “You go first, Mr Subedar.”

“Naib will do.” Jose nodded slowly upon his reply. Naib continued when he made sure he had the other at full attention. “It might be trivial, but might I ask about the sails?”

“What about them? Are they damaged?” Jose asked with a slight hint of concern, slightly shifting in his seat.

“No, but why are the sails secured? I do understand we are near the coast, but we still have quite the distance to shallow waters.” Said Naib. Upon hearing that, Jose’s shoulders relaxed visibly.

“You do have a detective’s eye. Quite the sharp one, mate. Anyway, Kurt told me to.” Replied Jose simply as he shrugged.

“What?” Naib blinked in surprise.

Jose sighed, rubbing his temples in manner that as if even the thought of it pained him. “Kurt told me to do it, if not Miss Nair will not retire for the night. He said that his local guide informed him earlier that there will be a change in the waters the moment we near the port. Storms underneath the sea, strong currents near the coast.”

Naib did not understand. “Change in the waters? What do you mean?”

“Whirlpools.” Jose explained. “We have to slow the vessel’s speed to swerve around them. Then again, whirlpools are usually found towards the regions of the Norwegian seas. Why would they be found anywhere near the bustling port of Cape town? Not to mention, he wasn’t fussing about one whirlpool. It was about several, like a nest.”

“Several whirlpools?” Naib gaped.

“It’s ridiculous, really. That kind of strange phenomenon. Perhaps only in books and tall tales of sailors stranded and ill at sea. Maybe they do exist, I am not one to deny and if they do exist, maybe only Jules Verne ever saw it.” Jose sounded almost exasperated as he rambled on. “But Miss Nair wouldn’t refuse to leave my side. She said I had to secure the sails and she watched me do it.”

Naib headed back to the deck afterwards with Jose behind him. The appearance of the ocean only seemed normal to his eye. The blue waves were calm, dashing against the keel and scattering into white foam.

“Strange.” Naib thought before turning towards Jose. “So, what was your request?”

“Do you know the man named Xie Bi An?” Jose began, his voice deep and grave, laden with the sound of spite.

“I am of acquaintance with him.” Naib replied, surprised with the sudden shift from his earlier indifferent nature.

“That umbrella he holds… Might you investigate more of its whereabouts?” Jose said.

“Is it not every wealthy Englishman’s umbrella?” Naib replied, recalling the familiar engraving on the hilt of the item.

“No. There is one umbrella he keeps with deep care.” Said the other. Jose then pulled a pocket watch from his breast pocket and stared at it fondly.

“Would I be let on to more details?” Naib asked.

“No, but you would know when you see it.” Jose shook his head sadly. “He keeps it like a treasure.”

Naib’s eyes then widened upon connecting the dots together. “Are you perhaps saying-!”

“Not here, Naib Subedar. Not here.” Jose pressed a finger to his mouth with a loud shush. “Do not jump to conclusions. Are you going to accept the deal?”

“Very well, Jose.” Naib calmed himself down, adjusting his vest. He recalled that umbrella that Xie Bi An had fondly laid back on the chair, black like obsidian and a sense of rustic. He recalled the gentle sounds of consoles as he recited to it. He recalled the look in Xie Bi An’s eyes, one that was of tender love.

Jose probably had known from the look on his face. Naib was never one to hide his emotions well.

* * *

“What are you doing here, Balsa?” Norton harshly asked, colouring violently. The other lazily noted as Norton’s fingers curled into a fist, thick veins fleshy on his arm. His cheek throbbed dully, body remembering the events from the previous days.

“I don’t know, Nortie. You like you’ve been through hell and over.” Said Luca instead, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. “Just saying we are reaching our destination. Seeing you holing up in yer cave like a mole, I doubt you know the things going on out there. They rolled up the sails today, so I presumed we are close to shore.”

“But it is just barely two weeks?” Norton echoed weakly. “There is no way we will travel that quickly to Africa.”

“I don’t know.” Luca replied. “I’ve overheard from…everywhere. But you should have anticipated.”

Norton, who was feeling an impending migraine setting in once more, starting from a dull throb between his eyes, started snarling. “Anticipated what?”

Luca, for the very first time, showed a face of disdain. His fanged tooth poking against his bottom lip as they contorted to an ugly frown instead of his usual smirk. “Nortie, you really don’t have be so much a j-”

It was then the ship rocked so violently, it threw both men off their feet and sent them crashing into the various furniture in the room. Norton thought it would be a sudden and short turbulence, but a loud sound akin to the crashing roof of the mine cave assaulted his ears and he was tossed like a wayward kite in the air. He struggled to regain his senses as he gasped for breath on all fours, lifting his head up only to see the cupboard swaying, its contents falling out as it prepared to crash on him. 

There was a short period of faux tranquillity- in the manner that his head was a blank- as he recalled the times the rocks and dust rained mercilessly upon him, with the fire scorching upon his skin as he cried to no avail.

He was then violently shoved away with a loud cry and crashed against the body of the armchair.

The movements then stopped for a short while, enough for Norton to make sense of his footing and register what had occurred. He scrambled to his feet before he knew it as he rushed to scan his surroundings.

“Ah, are you alright? Dumb question. You are standing after all.” Luca rasped with pain-filled eyes.

There he saw Luca being trapped underneath the cupboard, as numerous cuts rained on his body. The floor had splatters of red and before Norton could say a word, Luca had beat him to it.

“Pull me out, Nortie.” Said Luca in a monotone that did not reflect his current predicament. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Thankfully, you didn’t hide like trunks in there or I’ll be pancakes.”

Luca giggled dully at his macabre joke. Norton said nothing at the moment, for his emotions were thrown into a maelstrom. Silently, he just struggled to lift the cupboard with his magnets which were lying nearby, and in a jiffy, Luca wriggled out free with a groan.

The ex-prisoner mopped the running blood on his face with his sleeve before he looked despondently his left leg. The cuts were indeed not serious, many of which were tiny and just a flesh would which ran on the side of his chest where the cloth was ripped, revealing strange flower-like scars and a big purple-yellow bruise.

Unknowingly, Norton started rubbing the burnt scar on his arm before trailing his gaze onto Luca’s leg.

“What happened?” He murmured as the ache in his head resumed, but it was more like a dull throb instead of the full-blown pain and lack of breath he would experience.

“I don’t know.” Luca sounded almost angry. He then saw him pounding his hands on his thighs, as if in a manner that one would start up an old generator. “I feel like we might have been caught in something bad. Give me a bit to figure things out, it’s been a while since I am stuck like this.”

He noted the bent metal bars on the sides of his calves which thankfully did not cut into his pants or dug into his leg, and immediately raised his head in shock to face the other.

Luca looked almost apologetic as he turned his head away. “Seems like my splints are broken. They are usually rather sturdy, but I guess they wouldn’t stand against a cupboard. I should be thankful my legs aren’t broken.”

“I-” Norton bit his lips. Haunting memories swarming back and forth and the punch he did not mean to land on Luca. His head was hurting so, so much, and Luca just kept talking-

“Don’t apologise, Campbell.” Luca turned to him with a serious gaze and a sense of suffocating sincerity as he placed a comforting hand on his trembling shoulder. “There are bigger matters concerning us, like Yidhra.” 

“What...?” Norton barely could speak as the voice died in his throat.

Luca frowned as he tinkled on the broken splints, carefully shifting his legs out as he spoke. “You know that I used to do something with the occult, like Yidhra and Rashomon. In all honesty, I can’t remember what mechanism I would invent in relation to the occult and electricity. In the attic when Eli took me in, I read in an attempt to regain whatever knowledge that I lost but… I just simply have no clue of anything-”

“Anyway. I think we might be cursed by Yidhra, Nortie.” Luca said at last.

“What nonsense! Did you hit your head too hard?” Norton started shouting.

“No, I didn’t. You really make the best jokes!” Luca cackled somewhat like a mad man. It seemed more evident that he looked like one considering the mess he was in, but Norton thought otherwise. For the first time, that unhygienic, no-sense-of-personal-space, attic-thief-rat actually looked charming. Norton mentally berated himself for that and attributed to his growing headache.

“You get like headaches and stuff, right? Plus-” Luca pulled out his gloves and Norton saw his slim fingers, filled with tiny scars, the telling of many tales. Luca continued, either unaware or uncaring of his constant ogling. “Your fingernails are black. On the tips, they feel like scales.”

Norton ripped out his gloves and stared at his hands. For many years, he had ignored them, thinking it was a by-product from the explosion in the mines.

“And you can’t remember how you exactly got out of the mine you blew up.” Luca finally concluded with a huff.

“You… wait how did you know that-” Norton interjected with wide eyes.

“Puh-lease, Nortie. You’re not much of a secretive man. Either way, you’re not in this alone, money or not- I do need money too…” Luca chuckled as he struggled to stand, hobbling as he tried to regain his balance. “But first things first, let’s go up there and see what’s up.”

“Wait, aren’t your legs weak and not to mention-” Norton’s eyes trailed to his leg and he recognised two very familiar donut-like objects attached by the sides of Luca’s broken splint, holding them sturdy.

“Balsa!” Norton shrieked.

“Yes, thank you for your concern. It is secure, and I am able to resume my walk!” Luca laughed merrily. “Though I need bandages!”

“Those are my magnets!” Norton hissed.

Luca pursed his lip. “Indeed. They make a good replacement for bolts! I should try them out. Mind writing down for me in a note? Oh, and I will be taking your shirt here.”

Norton’s eye twitched a considerable amount before he hollered.

“I will kill you!”

* * *

Ten minutes ago, on the top of the vessel which Naib was not familiar of her name- then again, Xie Bi An did inform him that the Chinese rarely named their ships- he caught a glimpse of the ocean once more. He then started becoming aware of a loud and gradually increasing sound and watched Jose rushing to scramble to his nautical telescope. 

“What’s wrong?” Naib anxiously asked.

Jose looked perplexed, before tossing him the telescope and hurrying away. “Figures, detective. I need to be on the wheel now.”

He paused abruptly on the steps before added with bewilderment. “I think I’ll be damned to witness all this. My line has been cursed.”

Naib quickly adjusted the telescope and he perceived what would be the seaman term as ‘chopping’ ocean in his view. It had lost the grace and serenity it harboured earlier, as it rapidly changed into a current which set towards in all directions. It was clearly unnatural by all means. Naib would know, despite never being on the sea, for even streams and rivers which diverged into capillaries do not flow in this manner.

These currents acquired a monstrous velocity, each moment adding to its speed to a descent that seemed beyond a void. The whole sea in his eye, seemed to lash in ungovernable fury. In the distance, he spied the silhouette of an island and vast bed of waters in front seamed and scarred into a thousand conflicting channels, bursting into innumerable vortices, all whirling, gyrating and plunging with a rapidity into precipitous descents. Every moment, Naib could hear the heaving boiling and hissing that assaulted his ears and at the moment, felt his shoulders trembled and his feet quaked.

“It looks troublesome.” He found someone pressing up on his back and realised that it was Jack who spoke.

“Indeed.” Xie Bi An had too spoke and Naib found him with a solemn expression. He cautiously watched as the man gripped the umbrella in hand a little too tightly.

“We should head downstairs.” Jack said.

Naib nodded for whatever ahead seemed like impending doom. However, in less than five minutes down towards the cabin, he found himself flung off his feet, the balance of the ship overpowered by the currents. Being in battle, he was agile and tumbled in a manner where he would at most, sustain a small bruise.

At the moment when he tried to stand, he caught sight of the massive monster beyond the window. The ship was tilting in an angle where he bore witness to a gigantic circle, into the hole. Its funnel was a smooth, shining, jet-black wall of water, swirling round and round with an appalling motion and shrieking and roaring into the winds which knocked the boat to the other side.

He found a vice-like grip on his waist and saw that Jack wasted no time slipping into a cabin.

Jack muttered with annoyance. “I fear this vessel may end up splitting on rocks. No matter how much sturdy a ship she is, she is not a submarine. Even if we are heavy ships, we will soon be like a feather in a hurricane the moment we pass this threshold.”

Naib felt an intense force knocking him down to the floor, but Jack kept him steady with his arms, his other hand gripping tightly on a coat rack which had been bolted tightly to the cabin walls.

“Then again.” Jack mused. “Xie Bi An would always have something at the back of his hand. That disgusting man always plays his cards last.”

The ship stopped swaying and Naib knew it was only a temporal moment, for the heavy threats of the whirlpools could be heard even if he was against Jack’s chest, gaining some form of comfort in his beating heart.

“Let’s go to Jose.” He quickly said and Jack nodded simply.

* * *

“It’s just a small one…but the ship nearly got in there. God bless us.” Jose had his palms clasped against his forehead. In room, Naib noted that everyone was there. Norton was extremely roughed up, with deep creases below his eyes. Yet they glimmer with a light that was never there before. Naib had wanted to inquire but the situation had sunken to an atmosphere so tensed he could only listen to the frantic captain. “I can only see bigger ones ahead.”

“Is it impossible to change our course?” Kurt asked.

“No. We are surrounded by whirlpools on all sides and even now, we could be heading into one.” Jose then sighed. “To be honest, we should have been sucked in by now…but somehow we narrowly avoided two.”

“The vessel is well-built. I always make sure of that before we head to Africa.” Xie Bi An smiled hauntingly. “Are you unsure of your skills? I thought you might steer us through.”

Naib noted the strange use of his pronouns before Jose slammed the table angry and jabbed an accusing finger at him. “You knew of the whirlpools! Why did you not say a word?”

“Did the explorer not inform you, captain? So did Miss Nair.” He nodded at Vera Nair who just shifted away rigidly and smooth the creases on her dress. She looked shaken, but otherwise was still as graceful and beautiful as ever. He continued as he adjusted his tie, as bloody red as ever. “I knew of the whirlpools indeed. But they seemed to have increased in number.”

“The sea is as unpredictable as the weather.” Kurt timidly added, sensing the animosity brimming between the Chinese merchant and ex-first officer.

“We need more power, an entire rework of the current mechanisms to steer away from these many whirlpools.” Jose huffed. “Who can change the mechanisms so quickly in a span of a few hours? Bear in mind the famous Rezniks are not on board. We do not have the luxury of time. As much as I can stall time in these calm waters between them, it is still Mother Nature at her fondest works-”

“-Or a tantrum from a childish god.” Norton perked slightly when he heard Xie Bi An murmuring softly in dry amusement. No one had heard the man, only Norton as he had sharp ears and was in the closest proximity.

“-We are being pulled into three different whirlpools as we speak.” Jose concluded with a growl.

“Then.” Vera Nair cleared her throat. “If I may interrupt you gentleman, I do have a person for recommendation.”

She swivelled about the room in her lovely heels and Naib wondered how she still dared to wear them after all this while. “Balsa.” She called out in an authoritative tone. “If you may, could you kindly get down from the vents or wherever you are hiding? Considering the stability of this ship, you may get crushed in there.”

“Let him be.” Norton snorted.

“Balsa?” Kurt wondered aloud until a familiar figure tumbled from the ceiling, dust and dirt in hand.

“Oh my heavens! Is that not the murderer-” Kurt cried out.

However, as he turned back to see their faces, he realised he was the only one who expressed any form of shock at his existence. Jose looked almost tired as if he was done with all this, Naib was scratching the back of his shoe on the floor, Norton was expressing some form of disdain, Jack seemed indifferent, Vera was showing some form disgust at the amount of filth Luca was covered in and Xie Bi An looked as if he was watching a poor comedy theatre.

“There is no time to fuss over details.” Jose sighed, cupping a hand over his eye. “Yes that Balsa, your name was all over.”

“Of course! You know best!” Luca chirped happily despite having the most dishevelled appearance. The only joyful soul in the otherwise melancholic atmosphere. Naib observed that Luca was heavily leaning onto one foot.

“I’ll lead you there. Don’t dilly, I can’t leave the steer fixed for long.” Jose dragged his feet across the floor as he headed to the door. “Stay in your cabins, the rest of you lot. I have enough on my plate, like the ship on the verge of capsizing for starters.”

“A simple man!” Luca sighed histrionically. “You should learn from him more, Non-Non.”

“Non- what?” Norton made an ugly face but he did not sound all that angry, as he used to before. “Never-mind. Return my magnets, Luca.”

Luca grinned. “What? Then shall use your piercings as bolts instead? Or will you princess carry me there?”

“How about the suggestion that I will drag you there-” Norton begun before Jose was yelling angrily at the corridor.

“I said ‘don’t dilly’!”

Luca waved dramatically as he exited the room with a slight hobble and Norton followed, much to Naib’s surprise. 

“I- uh gotta’ keep a lookout for my magnets.” He scratched the back of his head uncomfortably when he saw Naib's expression. “He used it...for his leg.”

But Naib knew. He knew that Luca was wearing Norton’s shirt, since the cloth was much too big for him and that it had that trademark stubborn stain which the taller man complained about but never seemed to bother actually getting rid of it. He noted the numerous cuts which Luca tried to shift under the large sleeves, and the dirty band-aids that was clumsily pasted on his face. He noted the familiar magnets on the leg that Luca wasn’t putting any weight on, and the way Norton kept fiddling his thumbs and looking down like that time when Eli got hurt.

“Yes.” That was all Naib said, before tugging the taller man back. “You look better.” He offhandedly commented with an awkward cough.

Norton was stunned before resuming an awkward smile. “I suppose. I suppose I’ll feel even better if we return to London and fix that bloody hole in my ceiling for good.”

“Wait, it wasn’t repaired all this while?” Naib replied with genuine shock.

Norton grimaced. “No, that darn rat just patch the hole with a tablecloth. I just bore with it for Eli’s sake you know. Harmony and all.”

Naib broke into laughter as Norton gruffly shoved him away before heading on. 

**Author's Note:**

> Purely self-indulgent with the newly released skin. Somewhat half accurate late 1800s London and America. I am going according to the time periods, hence there will be sensitive topics explored such as racism, sexism and homophobia, although much toned down in this regard. They don't speak in like how people do in that time period too.
> 
> Check out my twitter for their outfits and updates.  
> https://twitter.com/Yura53860933/status/1270287497868664832?s=19


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